


Dead End Lover

by owarijanai



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Fluff, Hopeless romanticism, M/M, Slow Burn, Song Lyrics, inspired by a Richard Walters song of the same name, soft, this story makes me feel so soft always
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-17
Updated: 2018-07-17
Packaged: 2019-06-11 20:49:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15324021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/owarijanai/pseuds/owarijanai
Summary: A chance encounter at a bus stop changes Kyungsoo's life forever.





	1. September

_"Oh, the city homes are all alight,_   
_and the sky has filled itself with night._   
_I will steal these things away_   
_for us both."_

 

  
  
  
A cold breeze blew down the empty street, carrying with it the promise of winter even though it was only September. Kyungsoo shuddered, wrapping his arms around himself. It was nearly nine o’clock; he should’ve been home by now—he would have been, he thought bitterly, if he had a car.

A glance at his watch revealed that he’d been sitting at the bus stop for nearly twenty minutes, and he sighed. He’d never had to take a bus before. He didn’t know whether or not it was usual for them to be so late, but with his car in the shop for the next few weeks, buses were the only transporation he had. 

Kyungsoo jammed his hands in his pockets. The weather channel hadn’t said anything about the temperature dropping so suddenly. If it had, he would have been able to prepare and layer up so he didn’t freeze to death like he was currently. 

Sighing, Kyungsoo wished for the umpteenth time since stepping outside that he’d brought a jacket.

Then suddenly, as if some wayward deity had heard his prayers and deigned to answer them, a jacket was draped over his shoulders. Startled out of his thoughts, Kyungsoo turned around, surprised when he saw an unfamiliar man standing behind him.

“You looked cold,” the newcomer said with a grin.

Kyungsoo blinked. “I don’t know you.”

“No.”

“So why did you give me your jacket?” In any other situation, Kyungsoo would have just given it back, but it was so _warm_.

“Like I said,” the man smiled disarmingly, “You looked cold.”

“Oh …” Kyungsoo cleared his throat, pulling the jacket tighter around himself to ward off the wind. “Thank you.” 

The man laughed softly and sat down beside him. “I’m Jongin,” he said. “Kim Jongin.”

“Do Kyungsoo.”

“I’d shake your hand, but both seem to have disappeared inside the jacket. Are you really that cold?”

“Don’t judge me. I’m not used to this weather.”

“I never said I was judging you,” Jongin said with a soft smile.

Abruptly, Kyungsoo noticed that Jongin was only wearing a light sweater now. It was cute, but it also didn’t look that warm.

“Are you cold?” He asked, ready to give the jacket back. He didn’t even know this guy. What was he doing taking his jacket?

“No,” Jongin denied. Truthfully, he didn’t look at all affected by the chill.

“Are you sure?”

Jongin gave him a sidelong look. “I wouldn’t have given that to you if I was.”

“Oh.” Kyungsoo snuggled into the jacket, pouting a little. He wanted to say something more, to keep the conversation going, but he couldn’t think of anything to talk about. “Where are you headed?” He asked finally.

“Nowhere in particular,” Jongin said, trying to seem casual. To Kyungsoo, the vague answer sounded like an evasion, but he decided not to ask. It wasn’t any of his business. 

“What about you?” Jongin asked, startling him out of his thoughts. “Where are you going?”

“Home. I had to work overtime today.”

“Do you not have a car?”

“Not right now,” Kyungsoo sighed. “I was in a wreck a few days ago. It was nothing serious; just a fender bender. But it will be a few weeks before my car is repaired, so I have to take the bus.”

Jongin glanced at his watch. “It’s really late tonight, though. I wonder if something happened.” 

 _So it’s not normal for it to be this late,_ Kyungsoo thought. _Good to know that I’ve been sitting out here for nothing._

Abruptly, Jongin stood. “I could give you a ride, if you want.”

“You have a car?”

“Yeah.”

“Why are you taking the bus if you have a car?”

“I like riding the buses,” Jongin said, his smile weary. “It keeps my mind off things.”

“Oh.” Kyungsoo frowned. Everything about this situation seemed like a lapse in good judgement. But Jongin was nice and he’d given him his jacket and the bus was really late, and, honestly, Kyungsoo was too cold at this point to care about whether or not Jongin was a dangerous serial killer. He just wanted to go home. 

“Okay,” he said finally. “Sure.”

Jongin’s smile softened and he nodded, running a hand through his dark hair. It flopped cutely to the side when he did. “Follow me,” he said, shoving his hands in his pockets as he headed down the sidewalk. “My car is parked at my apartment. It’s just a few blocks away.”

Kyungsoo hesitated for only a moment, glancing back over his shoulder to make sure the bus really wasn’t coming before he headed off after Jongin. 

“How many blocks is a few?” Kyungsoo wondered.

“About one and a half, approximately. Not very far at all.”

Kyungsoo nodded. He didn’t know what to say.

The street around them was very dark. The only light came from the ones overhead, but they weren’t exactly the best in terms of illumination. Their light was a sickly, yellowish color. It splashed itself across the concrete and asphalt, spreading until the street looked like it was painted with disease—jaundiced by the light from the streetlamps. 

Kyungsoo found himself staring up at them as they passed underneath, suddenly fascinated. What would happen, he wondered, if all the bulbs were replaced with whiter lights? Would the street simply be brighter, or would it look as washed-out and ethereal as it did when the full moon hung in the sky?

“Kyungsoo?”

Jongin was staring at him, and Kyungsoo realized suddenly that he’d been lost in his thoughts. “Oh, sorry. Did you say something?”

“No, you just … seemed really far away.”

“I do that a lot.” His mother had often gotten frustrated at him as a child for how often he spaced out, but he really couldn’t help it. “Sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize,” Jongin said softly. There was a strange expression on his face, but it was gone before Kyungsoo could pinpoint it. “Um, my apartment is just around the next corner, by the way.”

“Good. My fingers are about frozen off.”

“I would say I empathize, but I’m used to a much colder climate. This temperature is what I would call balmy.”

“Balmy,” Kyungsoo scoffed. “Jongin, I can’t feel my fingers, I’m shivering, and my ass is numb. This is not _balmy_ in any way, shape, or form.”

Jongin laughed; it was a rich, thick sound. It rolled out of him like thunder. “That was a little too much information,” he admitted as they turned the corner at the end of the street.

“Oh. Sorry.”

“No, no, it’s fine.” Jongin said, brandishing a pair of keys. “Here we are.” He gestured grandly to an old Toyota parked on the side of the road, grinning in a way that seemed almost proud. The car was painted a faded color of blue, but it seemed to still be in good condition, and Jongin smiled as he unlocked it with a flourish, sliding into the driver’s seat like it was home.

“You coming?” Jongin asked, leaning over to open the passenger’s side door.

And suddenly, Kyungsoo hesitated. He wanted nothing more in that moment then to get into the car, warm up, and get home, but he realized that he probably wasn’t making a very smart choice. Jongin seemed nice enough, yeah, but the Devil had once been an angel, and judging a book by its cover was never a good thing.

“Kyungsoo?” Jongin was frowning now.

If Kyungsoo had believed in magic, he could’ve imagined it peeking out from behind Jongin’s eyes when he smiled. Kyungsoo didn’t believe in magic, of course, but he decided to throw caution to the wind and get in the car anyway, because _why the hell not?_

“How nice of you to join me,” Jongin said as Kyungsoo buckled himself in. “What was with the wait?”

“I was just remembering something,” Kyungsoo lied, trying to ignore the charm in Jongin’s smile.

They both fell silent as Jongin drove down the mostly empty road. Kyungsoo only spoke when he needed to give directions, and though the silence was not awkward, there was this strange tension in the space conversation would have filled—an unspoken suggestion that neither of them wanted to voice. Kyungsoo could feel it crackling at the tips of his fingers and sizzling in the air whenever he took a breath. 

It was distracting.

By the time they arrived at Kyungsoo’s place, he was almost breathless with the implications hovering between them.

“Thanks for the ride,” he said quickly, climbing out of the car.

Jongin smiled. “Anytime.”

He drove off without another word, and Kyungsoo found himself wishing that he’d stayed a little longer. The tension between them had been incredibly exciting, echoing with a sensation that was indecipherable and enticing. It was different than anything Kyungsoo had ever felt before.

Lost in his thoughts, it took Kyungsoo a few moments to realize that he was still wearing Jongin’s jacket, but by then it was already too late. 

Jongin was gone.

 _Well, I guess I’ll just have to keep this for a while,_  Kyungsoo thought, heading into his apartment and wondering subsequently why he still felt that strange prickling at his fingertips. 

 

 

That night, Kyungsoo dreamed of magic. But when he woke the tingling in his fingers had gone.

 

 

“When’s your car going to be fixed?”

“In a few weeks.” Kyungsoo sighed, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. He and Joonmyun were on dishwashing duty that day, and despite how much Kyungsoo hated serving customers, he hated washing dishes even more. 

Joonmyun frowned, “They didn’t give you a specific date?”

“Nope.”

“That seems a little … well, inefficient.”

Kyungsoo shrugged. “They’re busy. The place was packed when I went there, so I can’t really be mad at them.”

“What?” Joonmyun abandoned the stain he’d been scrubbing at desperately for the past few minutes, giving Kyungsoo a level stare. “Kyungsoo, yesterday you were practically seething with anger.”

“That was directed at the douchebag who hit my car in the first place.”

“No. I distinctly remember you saying something over the phone—amidst all the cursing—about the repair shop. In your words, you said they were incompetent douchenuggets and they deserved to be fired for their inability to do their jobs.” He grinned, “Or something along those lines.”

Kyungsoo shrugged. “I’ve decided to look at the bright side.”

“Which is?”

 _I might run into Jongin at the bus stop again._ “I met a few interesting people on the bus,” he said finally. “If my car wasn’t in the shop, I never would’ve met those amazing people, now would I?”

“That’s very unlike you.”

“What? To be optimistic?”

“Yeah. You’re usually such a downer.”

Kyungsoo made a face. “Thanks.”

“I actually meant to say _realist_.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Really, though.” Joonmyun went back to scrubbing. “Is that all? You met some cool people on the bus, and suddenly your entire view of the situation has changed?”

Kyungsoo shrugged. “I figured it was time for some optimism.”

Joonmyun gave him another look, and Kyungsoo knew he wasn’t buying it. “If you say so.”

He couldn’t bring himself to worry about Joonmyun’s suspicions, though. He was working overtime again that night. That meant he would have to take the late bus home, and _that_ meant he might see Jongin again. It was a slim possibility, but he’d stuffed Jongin’s jacket in his backpack anyway, just in case.

“Kyungsoo, you’re doing it again.”

“Hmm?” Kyungsoo blinked, shifting back into reality.

“You were spacing out,” Joonmyun said.

“Oh. Sorry.”

_You don’t need to apologize._

Kyungsoo sighed. He wasn’t an idiot. He knew the difference between love and lust. He was just attracted to Jongin because Jongin was nice and Jongin was handsome and Jongin had dark, silky hair and Jongin had lent him his jacket when he was cold and had given him a ride home. That was it. That was all.

_There’s no such thing as love at first sight._

“Are you sure nothing happened?” Joonmyun asked, bringing him back to reality once more. “You seem more out of it than usual today.”

“Yeah,” Kyungsoo said quickly. There was no way he could tell Joonmyun—sweet, caring, overprotective Joonmyun—that he was dangerously attracted to a stranger he’d met at the bus stop, that he’d accepted a ride home from the stranger, and that he also had said stranger’s jacket currently stuffed in his backpack. That would not go over well. So he stayed silent, hoping Joonmyun would drop it.

Thankfully, he did.

After they’d finished up with the dishes, Kyungsoo headed back to his normal position at the register. Being in the front of the café wasn’t that different from being in the kitchen, only now Kyungsoo had nothing to do but repeatedly wipe down the counters and check the soda machine and sweep the floor and then do it all over again a few hundred times and a few hundred times more.

Wednesdays were slow.

Joonmyun got off at five that day, meaning Kyungsoo basically had three hours all to himself. He didn’t mind being alone, of course. He just wished there was something to do to pass the time. But nothing presented itself, and time dragged on as Kyungsoo hovered by the cash register, fading off into space every few moments. There were no customers coming in at all, the chef was in the back doing who knew what, and Kyungsoo figured he could allow himself to zone out.

Immediately—against his wishes—his thoughts turned to Jongin.

Kyungsoo spent an hour or so contemplating the attraction he felt for the handsome stranger. It certainly wasn’t something to be encouraged, but after the feeling that had wavered between them in the car the night before, Kyungsoo was sure Jongin wouldn’t object to exploring it. He could imagine, clearly, the way Jongin would look at him if they ever decided to experiment with that tension they’d both felt. 

That was when he realized he should probably start thinking about something else. As far as he knew, there weren’t any cold showers readily available in the café.

I an attempt to think of something a little less … exciting, he turned his thoughts away from attractive strangers and endeavored to think of other things Then, without any segway whatsoever, he remembered his mother. 

She’d died a few years before, connected to an assortment of IVs, her skin cracked like old parchment and her eyes swimming with sallow tears as her liver failed her. But even amidst the noise and whir of all the machines and the incessant beeping of the heart moniter, she’d whispered to Kyungsoo words that would never leave him. 

“I want you to find a life for yourself,” she’d said. “Don’t get anchored to your father. He doesn’t deserve you.” 

That particular memory earned him half an hour in the bathroom, during which he attempted to muffle his sobs in the crook of his arm.

After that, Kyungsoo restricted himself to thinking about books he wanted to read and nothing more, and if the chef noticed the redness of his eyes when he emerged from the back to help with closing, he said nothing. Kyungsoo was thankful he didn’t. The last thing he wanted was to attempt to explain; all it would do was bring back a series of memories he would rather not think about.

He left the café that night wearing a jacket of his own, Jongin’s nestled safely in the backpack on his shoulders as he headed down the street toward the bus stop. With each step he took, the hope in him grew. It felt as if there were birds fluttering about in his stomach—not butterflies, but _birds_ —and he could clearly imagine them bursting forth from his chest, flying off into the sky with gold on their wings and songs on their tongues.

When he reached the bus stop, however, it was just as empty as it had been when he’d gotten there the night before. Kyungsoo felt his hope sink in him like a stone, killing more than two birds with its descent.

_I’m such an idiot._

“Kyungsoo?”

And just like that, the hope returned. 

Kyungsoo spun around, nervousness making his toes curl inside his shoes as he watched Jongin step out of the shadows and into the light of the streetlamps.

“You’re here again,” Kyungsoo said, hoping Jongin wouldn’t catch the relief in his voice.

“So are you.”

“I don’t have a car. I _have_ to be here.”

“I have a car.”

“I know.” Kyungsoo resisted the urge to grin. “But it seems a little silly to walk all the way back to your apartment just so you can drive me home and then drive back to your own apartment.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“We could just take the bus, then.”

“If it ever gets here, that is.”

Jongin laughed and took a seat on the bench, patting the space beside him. “My thoughts exactly.”

They spoke of music and preferences, foods, locations, and aspiritions. Jongin preferred fresh water rivers, but Kyungsoo couldn’t imagine anything more relaxing than warm sand beneath his toes and the sound of the ocean all around him. Kyungsoo spoke of the charm of skyscrapers, how amazing it felt being surrounded by a steel and concrete jungle, but Jongin said there was nothing better than mountain air and night skies studded with endless, twinkling stars.

“You’ll understand when you experience it for yourself,” Jongin said.

“When?” Kyungsoo echoed teasingly. “Not if?”

“There are no ‘ifs’ in my world. You’re going to see mountains one day, I promise.”

“Will you show them to me?”

“If you want.”

Kyungsoo caught Jongin’s gaze, and for a moment, neither of them spoke. Kyungsoo could feel that tension returning, electrifying the air between them. Jongin, however, looked away before it could become as potent as it had before.

“The bus is here.”

Surprised, Kyungsoo stood. It was there, and it was only a few minutes late, too. “That’s definitely a huge improvement compared to last night.”

“I looked it up,” Jongin said as the bus’s doors opened and the both boarded. “Apparently, the bus that was on this route ended up breaking down. That’s why it never showed.”

“I see.” Kyungsoo followed him to the back, taking the seat beside him. “Well, I’m glad you were there, then. I probably would have frozen to death otherwise.”

“Do you not have any friends who can give you a ride?”

“Oh, I do. But most of them live halfway across town. It would inconvienience them a lot, and it would also take them quite a while to get to me.” He shrugged. “In the end, it would probably be faster for me to just walk home.”

Jongin frowned, knitting his eyebrows together. “Can I see your phone?”

“What?”

“Your phone.” Jongin held his hand out. “Please?”

Kyungsoo pulled his phone from his pocket and handed it over. 

“I’m going to put my number in your contacts,” Jongin said. “That way, if you ever get stuck in a situation like that and the bus is late and I’m not there and you need a ride, you can call me.”

Kyungsoo smiled. “What if I don’t want to inconvenience you?”

“Giving you a ride is not an inconvenience.” Jongin handed his phone back. “Promise.”

The birds started up in Kyungsoo’s chest again, and there they stayed until the bus arrived at his stop. By then, he was rather unwilling to leave, but he knew he had to even as he gathered up his things and stood, moving to the front of the bus. 

“Will you be taking the bus again tomorrow?” Jongin asked just before he got off. He looked somewhat forlorn, sitting by himself at the back. For a moment, Kyungsoo contemplated inviting him into his apartment.

But it was far too early for that.

“Yeah,” he said. “I’m working overtime almost every day this week to help pay for my car repairs.”

“Then I’ll see you there.”

Kyungsoo nodded, offering Jongin a wave as he stepped off the bus and headed up the sidewalk to his apartment. He couldn’t resist one more glance back, and he smiled when he saw that Jongin was staring too.

If Kyungsoo had believed in magic, he would’ve seen stars in Jongin’s eyes.

 

 

The next morning, Kyungsoo could think of nothing but starlight. And it wasn’t until he was leaving work later that night, on his way to the bus stop to meet Jongin, that he realized it was the last day of September.

 

 

“What’s your favorite color?” Jongin asked.

Kyungsoo raised an eyebrow, taking the seat next to Jongin. “Why do you ask?”

“It’s basic knowledge when you’re getting to know someone. You know, the whole ‘favorites’ line up: favorite color, favorite food, favorite drink, favorite shape, favorite time of day—”

“Okay, okay, I get it.”

“—Favorite sex position.”

At that, Kyungsoo laughed. “I don’t think most people ask that one.”

“No?”

“Definitely not.”

Jongin nodded. “What is yours, then?”

“Sorry?”

“Your favorite sex positon.”

Kyungsoo swallowed thickly, thankful that they were currently the only passengers on the bus. “I haven’t really consulted the kama sutra in a while, so I couldn’t name it.”

“You could describe it.” Jongin’s tone was serious as he shifted closer, and Kyungsoo could feel the tension from before spreading through him, running under his skin like a current. 

“Well … I, um … I like being on my back.”

“Any particular reason why?”

Kyungsoo was trying desperately not to look at Jongin. “I … like being able to see my partner.”

“I see.” Jongin smiled. 

They spent the rest of the bus ride in silence, but somehow it wasn’t awkward. Kyungsoo decided it was because of the understanding that had formed between them. 

It had happened really suddenly, but Kyungsoo wasn’t complaining. He could imagine their encounters as red strings, unsure and careful as they tangled around each other, testing each movement before they committed to it. To others, it might have been too slow, but Kyungsoo liked it. He liked the flirting and the sarcasm and the ease of conversation.

It felt like gambling.

"Will you be here tomorrow?" Jongin wondered as Kyungsoo stepped off the bus.

Kyungsoo turned, smiling. "Yes. I _have_ to take the bus home, remember?"

"Oh, right. Then I'll see you tomorrow: same time, same place?"

"I'll be there."

Jongin smiled, looking pleased. "Okay. Goodnight, Kyungsoo."

"Goodnight."


	2. October

_"Move your heavy feet_   
_down every path and empty street._   
_Now you are soaked in night, the blinking lights,_   
_The start of something."_   
  
  
  
  
  


 

It had become a sort of ritual now for Kyungsoo to meet Jongin at the bus stop the nights he worked overtime. Not only that, it had become something to look forward to, something to give him purpose when he felt like he was floundering. 

There were even some days that it became the only thing keeping him going. 

It was strange, though. That attraction Kyungsoo had felt before was still there, but the implications that hung in the air whenever he was around Jongin didn’t sizzle over his skin as they had before. Instead, they hummed in his throat and vibrated through his chest, and Kyungsoo felt that he started looking forward to the bus rides with Jongin not only because he thought Jongin was attractive, but because he enjoyed Jongin’s company.

However, he still hadn’t told anyone else. None of his friends from work—not Joonmyun or Jongdae or his boss or the quiet chef whose name he could never remember—knew about Jongin or their nightly meetings at the bus stop; none of them knew that Kyungsoo had taken to going there even on nights he didn’t work late, just to see Jongin; none of them knew that he felt his happiest when he was around Jongin; none of them knew that Jongin was a secret—an amazing secret Kyungsoo wanted to keep hidden away in his chest for as long as he could.

But his happiness was not something he could hide.

 “You’ve changed.”

Kyungsoo looked up from the register, blinking in surprise. It was a Thursday evening, another day that business at the café was slow, and Joonmyun was standing on the other side of the counter, his eyes narrowed as he stared Kyungsoo down.

“I have?” Kyungsoo asked, glancing back at the computer screen. He was trying to add up his hours so he could figure out how much more overtime he had to work, but Joonmyun seemed intent on distracting him.

“Yeah, you have. Did something happen?”

“No,” Kyungsoo answered, knowing immediately that the denial had been too quick. 

Joonmyun’s shoulders slumped. “You know, you don’t have to tell me what happened if you don’t want to, but you don’t have to lie to me, either.”

Kyungsoo felt guilt rise in him. “Joonmyun—”

“Just forget it.”

Joonmyun walked away, and Kyungsoo knew he had made a mistake.

It became clearer when Joonmyun avoided him for the rest of the day, clocking out at four and exiting the café without even a glance in Kyungsoo’s direction. It left Kyungsoo feeling extremely helpless; he’d never fought with Joonmyun before. They’d always been there for each other no matter what, and not having him there—knowing that Joonmyun was angry and hurt because of him—was tearing Kyungsoo apart from the inside.

 _I should have just told him the truth,_ he thought as he got off work and trudged down the sidewalk. _I’m such a fucking idiot._

“Kyungsoo!”

Kyungsoo looked up at the shout to see Jongin already at the bus stop, waving him over. The sight of him didn’t cheer Kyungsoo up as it usually did, though. In fact, if anything, it just made the guilt surging through him ten times worse, and a crest of unbidden tears welled up in his eyes.

“Hey, whoa, what’s wrong?” Jongin gasped, noticing the tears. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

Kyungsoo wiped the tears away, shaking his head. “I – I’m not hurt.”

“Then why are you crying?”

“I got in a fight with my best friend.”

“… Have you tried apologizing?”

“It’s not that simple.” Kyungsoo sniffled softly, “We were fighting over … you.”

Jongin’s eyes widened. “Me?”

“W-well, I mean, sort of. He was mad because he knew something was different about me, but I haven’t told anyone about you or about our meetings here. I didn’t want to because it’s sort of a secret, you know—it’s _our_ secret—so I lied and said nothing had happened, but he knew I was lying and now he’s not speaking to me and I don’t know what to do.” He put his face in his hands, trying to quell the sobs threatening to tear through his throat. 

Underneath the sadness about Joonmyun, however, there was another emotion churning Kyungsoo’s stomach: _anxiety_. He and Jongin had never talked about the feelings between them; it had just been a sort of unspoken thing that they both acknowledged and did nothing about. Speaking of it felt almost taboo, and suddenly Kyungsoo was afraid that he’d lose Jongin and Joonmyun both in one night.

Then Jongin was in front of him, wrapping him up in his arms and holding him close, and Kyungsoo realized he’d been stupid to worry. 

“I understand how you feel,” Jongin murmured. “I haven’t told anyone about … about _this_ either. But if it will help you make up with your friend, we can tell him.”

Kyungsoo looked up, his eyes wide. “Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

A small smile broke through the sadness on Kyungsoo’s face and he nodded. “Okay. Okay, I’ll—wait, why did you say _we?_ ”

“Well, since we’re already at the bus stop, we could take a bus and go to his place right now. That way you could get everything cleared up as soon as possible.”

“You want to go with me?”

“Why not?” Jongin smiled. “I think it’s about time I started meeting some of your friends. Though I must admit—” he stepped closer, and Kyungsoo felt his mouth go dry, “—I’ve been enjoying these secret meetings. It feels like something from one of those cheesy romance novels: strangers by day, forbidden lovers by night, the two meet in secret to keep their friends and family safe.”

Kyungsoo would have laughed if Jongin hadn’t been so close. “Lovers?”

“Is that all you got from that?”

“It was kind of hard to miss.” Kyungsoo swallowed hard, the sound seeming defeaning in the silence. “Are we lovers?”

Jongin’s eyes darkened. “Do you want to be?”

“I—”

The sound of Kyungsoo’s phone ringing suddenly cut him off, shattering the moment. Annoyed, he pulled the phone out of his pocket, trying to resist snapping into the receiver as he answered. “Hello?”

 _“Kyungsoo?”_ That was Joonmyun’s voice. He sounded as if he’d been crying. _“Where are you? Can you come over?”_

Instantly, all of Kyungsoo’s anger drained away. “Are you at your apartment?”

_“Yeah.”_

“I’ll be there in ten minutes.” He hung up, glancing at Jongin. “That was Joonmyun, the friend I fought with earlier. He wants me to meet him at his apartment.”

“Sounds like you guys will be okay.”

“Yeah.” Kyungsoo frowned, not liking the sudden awkwardness in the air. “Do you still want to go with me?”

“Of course.”

 “Good.” 

The bus arrived just a few moments after that, and Kyungsoo felt unease rising in him again as he and Jongin moved to their normal seats in the back. What if Joonmyun disapproved of Jongin? What if they didn’t get along? What if Joonmyun didn’t forgive him? What if telling Joonmyun that he’d been lying about secretly meeting Jongin for nearly a month now just made things worse? What if—?

Jongin’s hand on his knee made him jump, jolting him out of his thoughts.

“Wh-what?” He stammered, running a hand through his hair.

“You were far away again.”

“I do that.”

Jongin frowned. “Are you okay? You seem a bit … nervous.”

“I’m just worried about what Joonmyun’s going to say.”

“About us?”

“ … Yeah.”

Jongin cleared his throat. “What are we going to tell him?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you didn’t really answer my question.”

Kyungsoo looked up at Jongin, surprised when he found the younger man much closer than he’d anticipated. Jongin’s lips were parted; Kyungsoo could imagine their breath mingling, merging to the point that it was inseperable—unbreakable.

“I barely know you.”

“I know your favorite sex position.”

Kyungsoo blushed. “This is just lust.”

“So?” Jongin smiled, “Maybe it could be something else.”

He was leaning closer, hope whispering at the corners of his mouth, and Kyungsoo just couldn’t find it in himself to pull away.

“Okay.”

Jongin’s hand had been on his knee, but somehow it had started creeping higher, caressing his thigh. Kyungsoo felt the sensation down to his bones. They were so close, their lips just centimeters apart—then the bus suddenly came to a stop, jolting them out of the world they’d created for themselves.

“We just can’t seem to catch a break,” Jongin said as he stood, sighing in exasperation.

Kyungsoo couldn’t deny the disappointment sinking in his gut as they both got off the bus and headed down the street, but it seemed as if that was just his life; karma had a way of biting him in the ass during the most inopportune times.

“How far is your friend’s house?” Jongin asked.

“Right around the corner,” Kyungsoo said. They were walking side-by-side, and Kyungsoo wanted so desperately to take Jongin’s hand. He still wasn’t entirely sure what he’d agreed to on the bus, though, or what it entitled, so he held himself back and focused on figuring out what he was going to say to Joonmyun instead.

_Hey, Joonmyun. This is Jongin. We’ve been meeting in secret for nearly a month, and tonight I just agreed to have sex with him, I think, even though I barely know him, and he’s the reason I’ve been different lately. Sorry for lying to you._

Nope.

Kyungsoo sighed. He really couldn’t see this ending well, but he didn’t know of any other way to make up with Joonmyun—his best friend, his _oldest_ friend—and in the end, Kyungsoo decided he’d just go where the situation took him. Planning was not going to work.

Joonmyun’s apartment was in a nice neighborhood. It was situated in a two-story building that looked more like a really big house with a large, western-style porch, dark red shutters to offset the overall white scheme of the place, and a well-kept lawn. There was a panel of buttons next to the front door, each labeled with a name, and Kyungsoo approached it casually, not even having to glance at it to see which button to push. He’d been there enough that he’d memorized its position.

“This will buzz us in,” he explained to Jongin, waiting for the familiar _click_ of the door unlocking before twisting the handle and going inside.

Joonmyun lived on the second floor, in the apartment at the end of the hall. Kyungsoo headed toward it in silence, wishing that Jongin would say something— _anything_. His thoughts kept wandering back to the _what ifs_ he’d worried about earlier, and they were honestly the last thing he wanted to think about as he raised his hand to knock on Joonmyun’s door.

The door swung open after two knocks, and Kyungsoo felt the same guilt from before wash over him like a tidal wave.

Joonmyun looked awful.

If Kyungsoo had let himself, he would’ve imagined an entire ocean in front of him. He would’ve just been a seashell on the beach, helpless to move as he was pulled in by the tide and swallowed by the undertow, but all he could focus on in that moment was the redness of Joonmyun’s eyes and the relief on his face.

“Kyungsoo,” Joonmyun gasped, pulling him into an abrupt, desperate hug, “I’m sorry for snapping at you. I’m so sorry. I never, ever want to fight again.”

Kyungsoo’s throat was tight. “I should be the one apologizing.” He pulled back, holding Joonmyun at arm’s length. “I shouldn’t have lied to you. I should have trusted you with my secret, and I’m sorry I didn’t realize that before. I’m a terrible friend.”

“Kyungsoo—”

“You don’t have anything to apologize for.”

Joonmyun gave him a small, unsure smile. “… Okay.” 

Kyungsoo felt the guilt in his chest wash away. The tide was receding, leaving him unscathed on the shore, and Joonmyun was his friend again.

“Who’s that?” Joonmyun asked, suddenly noticing Jongin.

Kyungsoo was about to start explaining, but Jongin stepped forward before he could say anything. “I’m Kim Jongin, a friend of Kyungsoo’s. It’s nice to meet you.”

“… A friend of Kyungsoo’s?” Joonmyun echoed.

“It’s a bit of a long story,” Kyungsoo admitted. “But, um, the short version is—”

“We’re lovers,” Jongin finished, to which Kyungsoo turned bright red.

Joonmyun’s eyes widened almost comically. His mouth opened and closed a few times, and the look of shock on his face made Kyungsoo worry for a moment that he had, after all these years, finally short-circuited. Then he kind of motioned to Kyungsoo and Jongin wordlessly, obviously unable to formulate a proper sentence.

“Kyungsoo …” he began once he’d finally regained his ability to speak, “Is—is this why you’ve been so much happier than usual lately?”

Kyungsoo’s blush deepened. “I … well … yeah.”

Jongin threw him a sidelong glance. “Happier than usual? That wouldn’t be because of me, would it?”

“Shut _up_.”

Jongin laughed. 

“Oh,” Joonmyun said. “… Why didn’t you just tell me that before?”

“We hadn’t exactly figured it out yet,” Jongin admitted, “Not until tonight, at least.”

“Until tonight?”

“Like I said,” Kyungsoo repeated, “It’s a long story.”

“I’m sure you’ll find the time to tell me all of it soon, then.”

Kyungsoo just sighed and nodded. There really was no getting out of it; he owed Joonmyun the whole truth, though. Besides, he felt truly at ease for the first time all day. Joonmyun wasn’t mad at him anymore, he seemed to approve of Jongin, and everything was looking up. Kyungsoo was a little disappointed, however, that his and Jongin’s almost-kiss on the bus had been just that: _almost._

But he had a feeling Jongin would want to rectify that sooner than later.

They left Joonmyun’s together a little while later. Joonmyun shouted something about safe sex in their wake, and Kyungsoo blushed red as Jongin gave him an affirmitave thumbs up. Of course that only made Kyungsoo blush harder, but a small voice in the back of his head silently thanked Joonmyun when Jongin finally— _finally_ —took his hand. 

Then they were walking down the street, hand-in-hand, and Kyungsoo felt like all the stars in the sky had set him alight with their brilliance.

Joonmyun’s apartment wasn’t far from Kyungsoo’s, so they decided to just walk there. Then Jongin could use the bus stop at the corner of the street and get a ride home. Despite how rational that solution was, though, Kyungsoo felt a much less innocent suggestion creeping up his spine, because _wouldn’t it be easier if Jongin just stayed at my place?_

But he didn’t voice the thought. It had only been a month and already he felt like everything was happening too fast.

When they finally got to his apartment, a slightly more run-down building compared to Joonmyun’s, Jongin paused just outside the front door. There was something akin to indecision on his face, and Kyungsoo held his breath. Electricity crackled through the air and across his skin, into his lungs; Jongin was staring at him.

When Kyungsoo blinked, Jongin was closer. His hands slipped down to grab at Kyungsoo’s hips, pulling him forward, and it took just a few seconds from there for Kyungsoo to shed his inhibitions and give in. His eyes slipped closed as their lips finally met, and something soft whispered from Jongin’s throat into Kyungsoo’s mouth—a sigh, perhaps, but Kyungsoo preferred to believe that it was relief in its corporeal form.

Then Jongin was kissing him.

The action stole everything from Kyungsoo: his thought process, his life, his _breath_. He’d never been kissed with as much fervor as he was by the man who had, up until nearly a month ago, been only a stranger he’d run into at the bus stop. He was panting mere moments into the kiss, grasping at Jongin’s shoulders as if he were the only thing keeping Kyungsoo on his feet.

They pulled away finally, both gasping for breath, and Kyungsoo realized suddenly that he’d never given Jongin his jacket back.

“ _Oh_ ,” he said.

Jongin licked his lips, and Kyungsoo felt arousal shoot up his spine like lightning. “What?”

“I—I never returned your jacket.”

“Jacket?”

“The one you gave me the first night we met.”

Jongin laughed softly, pressing his forehead to Kyungsoo’s. “Of all the things to say after our first kiss.”

Kyungsoo swallowed hard. “What if I said don’t leave?”

“Then I’d say okay.”

“Don’t leave.”

“Okay.”

Kyungsoo led Jongin up to his apartment in silence, his hands shaking a bit as he unlocked the door and stepped in. He was silently relieved that he’d decided to clean up the night before. Jongin would’ve been met with a huge mess otherwise, and Kyungsoo would’ve been extremely embarrassed about it for days— _weeks_ , even. 

He was proud of his apartment. The last thing he wanted was for someone to have a bad first impression of it.

“This is nice,” Jongin commented, stepping past the foyer and into the  kitchen.

Kyungsoo took off his jacket and hung it up just inside the door, following Jongin inside afterwards. “It’s not much, though,” he admitted, glancing around. It was a rather tiny apartment, sporting only a kitchen, a living room, and a single bedroom that had an attached bathroom. Anyone else might have deemed it too small, but Kyungsoo wouldn’t have asked for anything more.

“I still think it’s nice.” Jongin smiled at him. “It’s quaint. It fits you.”

“Are you calling me quaint?”

“Maybe.”

Kyungsoo laughed, but the sound was cut off when Jongin suddenly pulled him into his arms and kissed him—long and slow and deep. It was unexpected, but definitely not unwelcome, and Kyungsoo found himself out of breath and wishing for more when Jongin pulled away.

“Do you like movies?”

The question caught Kyungsoo off-guard. “Wh-what?”

“Movies? Do you like them? Have any favorites?”

“Um … yes?”

“Why is that a question?”

“Well, it’s a weird thing to say after you just kissed me.”

Jongin laughed. “You’re the one who started babbling about returning my jacket after our first kiss.”

“Oh, right.” Kyungsoo frowned. “Remind me to give that to you before you leave.”

Jongin took his hand, pulling him toward the living room. “When do you get up to go to work?”

“Seven.”

“Get me up then, too.”

Jongin picked a random movie from Kyungsoo’s collection—it turned out to be one of the few actual chick flicks that Kyungsoo owned, which made it absolutely perfect—and then they both settled down on the couch. Their legs were touching, their hands were entwined, and Kyungsoo felt the excitement from before start to simmer down as he began to nod off. 

If he thought hard enough, he could imagine the birds in his chest coming to a rest on some wayward branch, silent save for the occasional ruffling of their feathers. They were assured in their position; so was he.

Kyungsoo fell asleep moments later. Jongin followed shortly after that, his head resting on Kyungsoo’s shoulder as he slept, and Kyungsoo dreamt of birds and silver-gold magic and tangling breaths like wisps of color in the frigid winter air.

 

 

“So …” Jongdae said the next day at work, grinning. “You have a boyfriend?”

If Kyungsoo had been taking a drink in that moment, he would have spit it out. Thankfully he wasn’t, so instead he just stared, wide-eyed, at Jongdae. They weren’t the best of friends—in the end, he knew Joonmyun better—but they weren’t the worst, either. They were actually fairly close. Kyungsoo couldn’t remember telling Jongdae about Jongin, however.

That left one option.

“Joonmyun told you,” he said.

“Yep.”

“I’m going to fucking kill him.”

“He said you’d say that.” Jongdae smirked, the look in his eyes promising trouble. “So, what’s his name?”

“It’s Jongin,” Kyungsoo said with a scowl.

“Have you guys had sex yet?”    

“ _Jongdae_.”

“What? I’m just curious.”

Joonmyun emerged from the back of the café just then, carrying a box of silverware. “Is Jongdae sexually harassing you again, Kyungsoo?”

“More like he’s digging into my love life with the knowledge _you_ gave him.”

Joonmyun just grinned at him.

“Well?” Jongdae urged.

“No,” Kyungsoo said firmly, “We have not. And it will be none of your business when we do.”

“Do what?” Joonmyun asked.

“Oh, nothing,” Jongdae interjected before Kyungsoo could speak, “Kyungsoo’s just really excited to have sex with his new boyfriend.”

 “Stop putting words in my mouth, Jongdae.”

“I’m only telling the truth. Don’t you want to have sex with Jongin?”

“Who wants to have sex with me?”

All three of them turned in unison to see Jongin standing in front of the counter, and Kyungsoo felt his breath catch in his chest. Jongin had just stepped in from the cold, so his cheeks were lightly flushed and his dark hair was tousled beautifully. Kyungsoo could barely speak.

_God, he’s beautiful._

Jongdae’s mouth fell open. “Is this him?”

Kyungsoo nodded.

“Is anyone going to answer my question?” Jongin asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Me,” Jongdae said quickly. “I want to have sex with you.”

Kyungsoo quickly shoved him away, his face red. “Sorry about him, Jongin,” he apologized. “Jongdae can be a bit … eccentric.”

Jongin laughed. “I don’t mind.”

“What are you doing here, anyway?” Kyungsoo asked, trying not to sound accusatory. He had been expecting to meet Jongin later, after he’d gotten off work, but now there he was, in all his glory, and Kyungsoo didn’t want him to ever leave.

“I just thought I’d drop by on my lunch break since I haven’t seen your workplace before,” Jongin said.

“You should consider being a model,” Jongdae said abruptly, moving to stand behind Kyungsoo, “You are _gorgeous_.”

Jongin’s smile faltered a little at that, but it happened so fast that Kyungsoo wasn’t sure he’d seen it. “Thanks, but no. I like my current job.”

“Which is?”

“Nothing special. I work at a music shop a few blocks down the street.”

“And you’re here on break to see your precious Kyungsoo? Aww, how sweet.”

“I will fucking end you, Kim Jongdae,” Kyungsoo threatened.

Jongdae backed away, still grinning, and gave Jongin a sarcastic salute. “Word to the wise, Jongin, you probably shouldn’t let Kyungsoo suck your dick any time soon. He has a tendency to bite people’s heads off.” He ducked into the kitchen, still laughing, and Kyungsoo secretly hoped he slipped on a stray pot and died.

“Well then,” Jongin said.

“He takes a bit of getting used to,” Kyungsoo admitted, pulling off his apron. “Anyway, you said you’re on break, right? I was planning on taking mine in about an hour or so, but I can do it now.”

“We’re going to have lunch together?”

“If you want.”

Jongin smiled, and Kyungsoo felt a rush of warmth curl up his spine. “Sounds good."


	3. November

_"Hold me, fold me up in your arms._   
_Faster, my love, sinking and gone._   
_Hold me, my love."_

 

  
  
  
  
The night Kyungsoo stepped out of the café to find a layer of snow on the ground was also the night Jongin was there waiting for him. Kyungsoo paused at first, unsure if he was seeing things or not; he hadn’t expected to meet Jongin there.

“Hey.” Jongin’s hands were jammed in his pockets and his nose was red, but he didn’t seem to mind.

“How long have you been out here?” Kyungsoo asked, frowning.

Jongin grinned. “A few minutes.”

Kyungsoo frowned. It was cold enough to snow _and_ for the snow to stick, but Jongin was extremely underdressed in his light sweater and jeans; Kyungsoo felt cold just looking at him.

“You know, you never gave me that jacket back.” Jongin said.

A small smile stole away the disapproving look on Kyungsoo’s face. “It’s in my backpack.”

“Do you just carry it around  with you?”

“I’ve been trying to remind myself to return it by keeping it in here, yes.” Kyungsoo shrugged the backpack off, unzipping it and pulling the jacket out. “But I never seem to remember anyway.”

“Obviously.” Jongin took the jacket and slipped it on, a look of confusion flashing across his face when he did.

“What?”

“It smells like you.”

Kyungsoo felt that now-familiar rush of heat spread across his face. “Well, it’s been mixed in with my stuff for a month and a half, so I’m not surprised.” He pulled his backpack on again, trying not to stare at Jongin too long. “So, what are you doing here?”

“I thought we could have a change of pace tonight.”

“How so?”

Jongin smiled, holding his hand out. “Let me take you to my apartment.”

Kyungsoo hesitated. It was a fraction of a second, but enough for Jongin to notice, and his lips turned down at the corners.

“Do you not want to?”

“No—no, I do,” Kyungsoo denied quickly. “I just realized something.” He glanced back at the café. “I … I don’t know anything about your life, Jongin. I mean, I know _you_ , but that’s about it. Who do you hang out with when you’re not with me? Where do you go? What do you do?”

Instantly, Jongin’s face darkened. The color Kyungsoo had always thought of as magical—the dancing light in his eyes—faded away, growing listless in the darkness as his smile all but disippated. 

In a microsecond, Jongin had gone from full color to grayscale, and Kyungsoo regretted his questions instantly.

“Never mind,” he said breathlessly. “Forget I said anything. Let’s just go.”

“No, Kyungsoo—” Jongin grabbed his arm, stopping him before he could walk away. “Look, I … it’s really complicated, okay? I don’t even know if you’ll understand it all. It’s a long story.”

“I have time.”

Jongin frowned. “I’ll tell you, I promise. I’ll tell you everything. But for now can we – can we just head back to my place?” His frown lightened up a bit—just a tiny fraction of an inch, but enough to make a difference. “I’m really starting to get cold out here.”

Kyungsoo stared at him a moment before he heaved a sigh, giving in. “Okay.”

“Okay.” Jongin took his hand, squeezing it a bit as they headed down the street together.

They walked mostly in silence, alone on the dark street. It was emptier than usual due to the snow, the yellow of the streetlights splashed across blankets of frozen white. Kyungsoo decided he liked it better that way. He could lose himself in the dark and the quiet and think of the snow crunching beneath his boots as stardust. And when he turned to look at Jongin, his gaze traced shadows weaving through his lover’s collerbones, finding a contrast between darkness and light that left him feeling wistful.

In the end, they didn’t take the bus. Kyungsoo almost missed it. He’d gotten so used to their time on it together, but Jongin had pointed out that the buses probably weren’t running due to the snow. His place wasn’t that far anyway, so they walked. 

When they finally arrived at Jongin’s apartment, Kyungsoo felt alive. Every touch from Jongin was like fire, every breath from his lips a dusting of emotion. Kyungsoo had always known there was more to Jongin than he was telling—it was so obvious in the secrets hidden in his dark eyes and the whispers in the dip of his throat that spun darkness through his speech. But now it was different.

Now Jongin was going to tell him everything.

Jongin’s apartment was nice. Really nice. Bigger than Kyungsoo’s and Joonmyun’s put together, and more modern, too. The appliances were high-tech to the point that they looked alien even to Kyungsoo, who spent quite a bit of time in the kitchen. There was also a lot of white everywhere, to the point that Kyungsoo was almost afraid to touch anyting. It all looked so … _expensive._

“Whoa,” he said.

Jongin took off his jacket and shoes, smiling. It seemed strained around the edges. “Yeah, so … this is my place.”

“Are you rich, or something?” Kyungsoo asked, turning in a small circle and trying to see all of the apartment at once. It was extremely high-end, and Kyungsoo knew that not just anyone could get a place like this, not in their town.

“Or something,” Jongin said, looking uncomfortable.

Kyungsoo turned to look at him, not liking the crack in his voice. “Jongin?”

“I said I was going to tell you everything,” Jongin said. “So I will.” He turned, beckoning for Kyungsoo to follow as he headed off down a hallway to the right. Kyungsoo eventually went after him, unsure but curious. The room he found himself in looked like it was supposed to be a bedroom, but it was empty save a few boxes, some old furniture, and the overhead light that Jongin flicked on as they walked inside.

“What’s in here?” Kyungsoo asked.

Jongin didn’t answer for a moment. Instead, he picked up one of the boxes stacked against the wall and carried it over to the center. “Come here,” he said to Kyungsoo, sitting down and opening the box.

Kyungsoo approached gingerly, peering inside. At first glance, it seemed to be full of old magazines, and Kyungsoo was almost disappointed. He’d kind of been expecting body parts.

“What are those?” He sat down next to Jongin, scooting closer so he could see.

Jongin smiled sadly. “These are my past.” He pulled one of the magazines out then, handling it in a way that was almost loving before passing it to Kyungsoo and watching him expectantly. Kyungsoo wasn’t sure what he was waiting for, though. It was just a magazine.

Then he looked at the cover—really _looked_ —and shock slashed through him like lightning.

It was an older edition of _Vogue_ , dating back far enough to be considered irrelevant. The cover itself was done in black-and-white, depicting a man of unsurpassed beauty who was dressed in a suit so slick the word _smooth_ seemed to roll off him like water, seeping out of his very pores. 

He was beautiful.

Kyungsoo almost hadn’t recognized him at first.

“It’s … it’s _you_.” Kyungsoo glanced up at Jongin, disbelief scribbled across his brow. “You were a model for Vogue?”

“Not just Vogue,” Jongin corrected. “I modeled for many different people. I did fashion shows, I walked down the runway, I was on cover after cover of famous magazines, I met actors and producers and artists most people only dream of meeting.” He shrugged. “I was living the life.”  
      
Kyungsoo glanced back down at the magazine in his hands. The Jongin in the picture looked different; he looked younger—less worn. “What happened?” He asked finally. “You said you _were_ living the life, so why did you stop?”

Jongin’s eyes were glassy again. “Well, I almost died.”

It was very quiet in Jongin’s apartment. Kyungsoo imagined, just for a moment, that the air was holding its breath. It helped, somehow.

“It was the beginning of last year,” Jongin continued, not quite looking at Kyungsoo. “My company told  me I had to lose more weight before the big pre-spring fashion show. But it wasn’t just me; all the models in my company were told the same thing. Our company wanted to make us the highlight of this show, so we were given a newer, more strict diet regimen in order to prepare. It was aimed towards reducing fat intake and upping our metabolisms so we could burn calories quicker, but then it went horribly wrong.”

Kyungsoo almost didn’t want to ask. When Jongin fell silent, though, he knew he had to. 

“How?”

“It was inhumane,” Jongin continued, still not looking at him. “This new diet. We were eating practically nothing. I lost fifteen pounds in just a few days, and that was when I was already comfortably settled near the low hundreds. Then a week after the diet had been implemented, I passed out during rehersals and had to be hospitalized for malnutrition. The doctors told me I was lucky. They said if I’d kept going on like that my major organs would’ve just stopped functioning.” He swallowed hard. “I would’ve died. I almost _did_.”

“So you quit? You left the company because of that?”

“No … not quite.” Jongin fidgeted with the hem of his shirt. “I felt the need to leave, but I didn’t know how to go about doing it. Turns out I had my decision made for me, because a few days later, my best friend died.” 

There were tears in his eyes, threatening to seep from the corners. Kyungsoo was afraid they’d shatter if he spoke.

“I sued the company, of course. I sued them for nearly killing me, for killing my friend, for telling us we were worthless unless we were disgustingly skinny—I sued them for all of it. In the end, I won. The company was told to reform or shut down, and I was given a half a million from the company’s pockets as payment for my trouble.” He looked up at Kyungsoo, _finally_. “I moved here so I could have a new start, and it turned out to be the best decision I’d ever made.”

“What about your family? Don’t you have any family?”

Jongin shook his head. “They stopped caring about me a long time ago.”

“I’m sorry,” Kyungsoo said automatically.

“It’s okay. They didn’t approve of my career choices, so it wasn’t exactly a surprise.”

“But … you quit.”

“That doesn’t matter to them. My dad wanted me to follow the family tradition and become a doctor. I defied his wishes, and I was cut off.” He shrugged. “I can’t bring myself to be upset about it, though. They weren’t much of a family anyway.”

Kyungsoo swallowed down the lump in his throat.

“What about you?” Jongin asked.

“Me?”

“You’ve never mentioned your family, either.”

“Oh.” Kyungsoo looked down at the magazine still in his hands. The title stood out on the glossy cover—black against white, a catching juxtaposition—but Jongin took center stage. His every feature was perfect to the point of impossibility. In real life, however, he was even more so, sporting a natural sort of beauty that easily outdid the glittering, otherworldly look on the cover of the expired magazine.

“Kyungsoo?”

Kyungsoo blinked, as if emerging from a dream. “Sorry, I was zoning out again.” He smiled a bit. “But I don’t think my family is much better than yours.”

“How so?”

“My father wasn’t exactly the best of fathers.” He shrugged. “I mean, he wasn’t a druggie or an alcoholic or anything like that. He didn’t beat me or my mother. There was no abandonment; in fact, he stuck with us to the end. It’s just …” he frowned, the memories returning with vigor now. It wasn’t something he’d wanted, but he trusted Jongin, and he wanted Jongin to know.

He wanted Jongin to know everything.

“He had this obsession with order,” Kyungsoo continued. “Everything and everyone around him had to be perfect at all times or he disapproved. He never voiced this disapproval, of course, but it was obvious if you knew him well enough.”

His voice caught. He couldn’t say it; the words wouldn’t come. 

“Go on,” Jongin urged gently.

“I spent all my life trying to please him,” Kyungsoo said finally, but his voice was strained. “All I wanted was his approval. I—I just wanted him to be proud of me, but he never was. Every time I did anything, even if I did it to the best of my ability, all he would say was “you could’ve done better”, or something along those lines, and it just went on from there. But it wasn’t really apparent how bad his obsession was until the day my mother was diagnosed with liver cancer.”

Jongin said nothing to this. His expression was tight, his shoulders raised and tense, but he did not speak. He’d gone still—as still and silent as a statue. 

“It was terminal,” Kyungsoo continued, and his voice hitched on the word. “She only had a few months to live, and, well, my father couldn’t deal with that. He couldn’t deal with the fact that his perfect wife had been soiled with such a disgusting disease. He had her hospitalized, of course. But after he’d made sure she was comfortable, he never visited her. Not once.”

Jongin looked uncomfortable. “… Kyungsoo.”

“She died knowing he hated her for what she’d become, for the fact that her body had turned against her, turned her skin sallow and her blood thin. She was more than my mom, she was my best friend. She helped me through so much. She was so strong, and she—” his voice finally gave out, shattering across his words, “She deserved so much better than that.”

Jongin was there in an instant, his arms strong and supportive around Kyungsoo’s shoulders. No tears came, though. He figured he had used them up already; he had cried so much for his mother that there were no tears left. But still he leaned on Jongin, welcoming the warmth and comfort.

“How long ago was this?” Jongin’s voice was softer than before.

“A little over a year.” Kyungsoo sighed heavily. He felt spent, wrung dry as if he’d just undergone some exhausting, cathartic release. “I haven’t spoken to my father since. I moved here to escape, just like you did.”

Jongin chuckled. The sound was without mirth. “Birds of a feather flock together.”

“Yes, I suppose so.”

Silence eased in after that. Neither of them seemed to want to break it, too engrossed in each other as they sat there with Jongin’s past in the box beside them and Kyungsoo’s floating through the air. It was nice to have everything out in the open. Kyungsoo felt as if he knew Jongin so much better now, understood the little nuances and the sadness he often saw in his lover’s eyes.

 _You should consider being a model,_ Jongdae had said.

Jongin’s smile had faltered then—faltered, but stayed steadfast—and now Kyungsoo understood why. It made this feeling burst in his chest, like a mini firework, because only _he_ knew. He was the only one Jongin had trusted to tell.

There was still silence, but it had changed now. The tension Kyungsoo could remember from the first time they’d met had returned, thickening the air around them, and his mouth went dry. He was waiting for something to happen, unsure of what he wanted, when Jongin suddenly sighed and moved closer, nuzzling his face into Kyungsoo’s neck.

Kyungsoo froze.

“Is this okay?” Jongin asked, his voice soft. He kissed the side of Kyungsoo’s neck, his lips lingering on the skin, and Kyungsoo melted into his arms.

“ _Yes_.”

Jongin continued, moving down farther. His touch was like fire to Kyungsoo, leaving a trail of singed skin in its wake. Kyungsoo tilted his head to the side, needing more and more and _more_. A gasp slipped from his throat when Jongin’s hands slipped under the loose fabric of his shirt, and Kyungsoo leaned back into his chest, content to let Jongin search and feel and learn his skin as well as if it were his own.

Then Jongin’s hands moved down to undo his belt, and Kyungsoo tensed.

“Is something wrong?” Jongin asked, sounding worried.

“No, no …” Kyungsoo wriggled in his arms, turning around so he was straddling Jongin’s lap. “I just … I want to see you.”

Jongin smiled, his hands settled on Kyungsoo’s hips. “Okay.”

Jongin kissed him then, slow and deep, and Kyungsoo gasped into it, his toes curling when his jeans were unzipped and shoved them down around his thighs. The air between them was thick was desire, writhing with the tension and longing that had been hanging between them since they’d first met so many months ago. It was intoxicating to the point that Kyungsoo felt dizzy. And every touch of Jongin’s fingers—every kiss, every breath from his lips—helped Kyungsoo soar.

“I—can I—?” Jongin asked breathlessly. His fingers were dancing around the edges of Kyungsoo’s hips, hesitant.

“Yes.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to rush you—”

“For fuck’s sake, Jongin, _yes_ ,” Kyungsoo said, leaning forward to undress Jongin as well. But he was stopped when Jongin’s hands went down his underwear, stroking him to life and sending pleasure through his veins like lightning.

“ _Oh_ ,” he gasped.

Jongin chuckled softly. “Does that feel good?”

“Shut up,” Kyungsoo said without malice. “Cheeky little shit.”

“Hey, I learned from the best.”

“… I think I take offense to that.”

Jongin laughed. “Actually, I was referring to Jongdae.”

“Oh my god. Please don’t mention him when we’re about to have sex.”

“Point taken.” As if changing the subject, Jongin leaned forward to nip at his jawline, and Kyungoo’s breath hitched in his chest.

He forgot all about Jongdae then, focusing on nothing but Jongin—Jongin and his dark eyes, the sorrow creased in the corners, the way his hands felt on Kyungsoo’s skin, the way his breath came in short, shallow gasps. Kyungsoo was breathing hard now too; he was getting harder with every moment that passed as Jongin jerked him off slowly but surely, and finally he could take it no longer.

“I need you,” he gasped, leaning forward to grab at Jongin’s shoulders. “ _Now_.”

Jongin’s eyes widened a little at that. Then he nodded, pulling Kyungsoo to his feet and leading him across the hall to his bedroom. 

The bed there was quite large—a queen size with a fluffy, white comforter and duvet on top. Kyungsoo was a bit distracted from admiring the décor, however, as Jongin slowly guided him over to the bed and pushed him down, smiling all the while. Kyungsoo returned the smile timidly, his fingers clenching at the sheets as Jongin crawled up to hover over him on all fours.

“Have you done this before?” Jongin asked softly. His eyes were so dark, the pupils blown wide with lust, and Kyungsoo was sure he mirrored the expression.

“No,” he answered truthfully.

“Me neither,” Jongin admitted. “But, um, I did a little research, and …” he leaned over, pulling a bottle of lube and a box of condoms out of the side table drawer. “I’ve had this for a while … just in case.”

He looked so unsure, so nervous, and Kyungsoo couldn’t help but laugh.

“At least one of us came prepared.”

Jongin relaxed a little, his smile returning. “Yeah.”

Despite his nervousness, Kyungsoo trusted Jongin completely. So he held still even as Jongin pulled his underwear down and off, exposing him to the cool air of the room. It was a little embarrassing, and it only became more so when Jongin spread his legs and situated himself between them. 

It took all of Kyungsoo’s will to resist the urge to cover himself. 

Jongin was watching him levely, his eyes filled with a look Kyungsoo couldn’t quite place. Then the younger man was leaning down to press one lube-coated finger inside him, and for a moment, Kyungsoo forgot who he was.

“Oh—” he gasped, tensing.

“Relax,” Jongin murmured. “Don’t clench up like that; it’ll just make things harder.”

Kyungsoo resisted the urge to laugh. “That’s what she said.”

“ _Kyungsoo_.”

“Sorry. The timing was perfect.”

“Uh-huh.” Jongin slid the finger in deeper, and something in Kyungsoo’s lower abdomen decided to react to it. A slow, dull feeling of pleasure was curling up in his gut, like it wasn’t exactly sure what it was supposed to do.

It was a very new sensation.

Jongin chuckled. “I take it you like that?”

“It ... it feels sort of strange, but not in a bad way? It’s hard to describe.” He shifted a little, reaching up to grasp at Jongin’s shoulders; they were firm and strong and Kyungsoo suddenly felt safe.

“Are you ready for a second?” 

Kyungsoo nodded, forcing himself to relax as another finger slid inside of him. 

_Ah._

That burned a little, but it wasn’t too bad. Kyungsoo could handle it. He focused on Jongin to take his mind off the stretch, taking in everything about him—his flushed cheeks, his dark eyes, the way he licked his lips. 

Kyungsoo hardly even noticed when a third finger slid in.

 “I’m—I’m ready,” he gasped.

Jongin frowned. “Are you sure?”

“ _Yes_.” 

“… Okay.”

Jongin pulled his fingers out slowly, his breath ragged as he shrugged out of his boxers and rolled a condom on. Then he was sliding into Kyungsoo, slow and hesitant and unsure, and it was all Kyungsoo could do to resist telling Jongin to just _fuck him already._

“I—I don’t want to hurt you,” Jongin whispered, almost as if he had heard Kyungsoo’s thoughts.

“I’m okay.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, Jongin, I just—I _need_ you.”

That seemed to convince Jongin to continue and he nodded, his lips pressed into a thin line as he kept going. His brow was furrowed; it was cute. Kyungsoo had to resist the urge to reach up and smooth it out, settling instead for wrapping his arms around Jongin’s neck.

Then Jongin was all the way inside him, and Kyungsoo couldn’t wait anymore.

“G-go, Jongin” he gasped. There was sweat running down his face, dripping into his eyes, but he didn’t care. “Move.”

“Don’t you need to adjust—”

“No, I need you to _move_.”

Jongin was happy to comply.

It was slow at first. Jongin was still unsure so he didn’t put much into the rythym. He rocked his hips gently, holding himself up on already-shaking arms, and Kyungsoo decided then that he liked the way Jongin looked in that instant: flushed and soaked with sweat, hovering over Kyungsoo as he slid in and out and struggled to find a rythym.

“ _Faster_ ,” Kyungsoo breathed.

Again, Jongin complied, putting a bit more power into his thrusts. But it wasn’t until Kyungsoo moaned that he really started to get into it. He grabbed at Kyungsoo’s hips, shifting so he wouldn’t lose his balance, and picked up the pace.

“Jongin—!” Kyungsoo gasped, digging his fingers into the skin of Jongin’s back like he was trying to anchor himself to reality. His eyes were shut as Jongin moved inside of him, settling into a push-pull rythym that had Kyungsoo begging softly for _more more more_ , and he could hardly breathe now in the stifling air of the room.

Jongin licked his lips, groaning softly. “… _So beautiful_.”

Rather than attempt a reply, Kyungsoo focused instead on the pleasure coiling tight in his abdomen and the soft gasps and groans that fell from Jongin’s plump lips. He wanted to kiss them, so he did, and Jongin groaned into the kiss as he pulled Kyungsoo onto his lap.

“Oh—oh _fuck_.” Kyungsoo buried his face in Jongin’s neck, breathing heavily. 

From this position, Jongin seemed to have a much easier time thrusting into him, his hands on Kyungsoo’s waist as he moved and Kyungsoo moved and nothing else mattered. The world faded out, pointless in the face of what was happening between them in that moment.

“I can’t,” Kyungsoo gasped, his voice nearly drowned out by the sound of skin-on-skin and Jongin’s gasps and his own moans. “Jongin, I—I’m _close_.”

“Me too,” Jongin breathed, tilting his head down to kiss him again, deep and rough and sweet all at once. It was almost too much. At this point, Kyungsoo knew that he needed one more thing to push him over the edge. Just one more thing.

And when Jongin’s tongue slipped into his mouth, Kyungsoo fell.

He came with a soft cry, his body tensing as he rolled out the waves of his orgasm. Jongin came moments after, filling up the condom before he had a chance to pull out, but Kyungsoo didn’t care in that moment—he was coming down from his high, sticky and satiated, Jongin was smiling at him, and everything was perfect.

“Wow …”

Jongin chuckled and slowly pulled out of him, gasping a little at the friction. “At least you’re not talking about jackets again.”

“What?”

“Our first kiss, remember? You started rambling on about how you’d forgotten to give me my jacket back.”

“Well _excuse me_ if I was trying to be nice and give you your jacket back.”

Jongin kissed him gently. “I’m only teasing.”

“So am I,” Kyungsoo replied, kissing him back.

After a few moments in which they both basked in the afterglow, Jongin stood, pulling off the condom and grimacing as he threw it into the trash can in the corner. “How about a shower? I feel kind of gross now.”

Kyungsoo slid off the bed, grinning. “Only if it means round two.”

“I like the way you think.”


	4. December

_"We fell in love and it doesn’t hurt; my back stays stiff and strong._   
_Our hearts may break and our egos strain,_   
_but our eyes will never roam._   
_Oh, meet me at the estuary. Float with me out to sea."_   
  
  
  


 

 

The sun had set by the time Kyungsoo got off work that night. He'd taken another extra shift, meaning he was the last to leave and thus the one to lock up.

It was cold. 

Kyungsoo had actually remembered a jacket this time, but he kept fumbling with the keys to the café, cursing softly as he did. When he finally got the right key after what felt like an eternity of trying to get his fingers to cooperate in the frigid air, he dropped them. 

_I really need to invest in a good pair of gloves._

Sighing, Kyungsoo reached for the keys, but someone else picked them up first.

“Drop something?”

Kyungsoo looked up to see Jongin smiling down at him and relief flooded his chest. “Uhh … yeah, thanks. My hands are cold.” He took the keys from Jongin’s outstretched hand and finally managed to lock the door. 

“Are you still working late shifts?” Jongin asked.

“Yeah,” Kyungsoo sighed. “I got my car back a few weeks ago, but I’m still trying to pay off the repair costs.”

Jongin blinked. “You … got your car back?”

“Didn’t I tell you?”

“No, I just figured you hadn’t yet since you were still taking the bus to and from work.”

Kyungsoo shrugged. “Gas is expensive. It’s less money to take the bus. Besides, I wanted an excuse to hang out with you.”

Jongin’s cheeks were red. Kyungsoo wondered if it was from the cold or if he was blushing. He kind of hoped it was the latter; he liked the idea of being the only one who could make Jongin blush.

“Well, um, are we taking the bus again tonight?” Jongin asked.

“That depends. My place or yours?”

“I don’t mind.”

Kyungsoo thought back to the night before—all those memories in such a short amount of time. His own apartment was nice, of course, because it felt like home, but Jongin’s felt like an adventure. “Is yours okay?” 

“Of course. Do you need to stop by your place to grab anything?”

“Yeah, actually. Just a few things. You don’t have to go with me, though. I don’t want you to have to pay for an extra trip in the bus when you don’t need to.”

Jongin smiled. “Kyungsoo, it’s fine. Money isn’t exactly a problem for me.”

“Oh.” Kyungsoo thought back to Jongin’s apartment. “Right, yeah.” 

For a moment, he was somewhat jealous of Jongin’s lack of financial problems. If Kyungsoo had that much money, he wouldn’t have to take so many extra shifts to pay for his car repairs. He wouldn’t have to worry about paying for his apartment, either.

A little voice in the back of his head suggested asking Jongin for help, but Kyungsoo quickly shook the idea away. His financial situation wasn’t _that_ bad. Even with all his expenses, he still had extra money every month, and his mother had always told him that he should never ask for what ought to be offered. He wasn’t about to disobey her.

_I can get through this._

He and Jongin had a quick meal for dinner, during which they watched some boring TV show and opted for just making fun of it instead. Afterwards, Jongin tried to teach Kyungsoo how to play Xbox, but Kyungsoo failed miserably and ended up tickling Jongin as retribution for laughing at his failure.

“Stop! Stop!” Jongin gasped, laughing as he rolled off the couch. Kyungsoo followed, jabbing at his sides, but Jongin suddenly retaliated, lunging forward and grinning as he pinned Kyungsoo to the carpet. 

“I win.”

Kyungsoo raised an eyebrow. “I don’t think so.”

“Well, if that didn’t ensure my victory, _this_ certainly does.”

Then they were kissing, Kyungsoo melting into the contact as Jongin’s body molded against his, and he decided he never wanted anything more than this: both of them, together in this way, laughing and joking and kissing.

“Come to bed with me?” Jongin asked as he pulled away. His cheeks were flushed and Kyungsoo felt his chest tighten.

“Always.”

Jongin stood, helping Kyungsoo to his feet before heading towards the bathroom to get ready for bed. But Kyungsoo felt like it was more for show than anything.

They both knew that they would be getting very little sleep.

Of course, Kyungsoo didn’t mind, because Jongin’s hands felt like fire on his skin, burning through flesh and bone and stealing his heart away, and there was no way he could be against this.

Pleasure thrummed through Kyungsoo’s veins as he ran his fingers through Jongin’s sweat-slicked hair, tugging on it every so often, begging for more in a raspy whisper. He was on Jongin’s lap, his legs around the younger’s middle as Jongin thrusted up and into him, eliciting soft noises from Kyungsoo every time he moved.

“I—Jongin, I _can’t_.”

“Just a little more,” Jongin gasped. Perspiration ran down his face, dripping from his chin and gathering in his collarbone. Kyungsoo ran his tongue across Jongin’s neck, reveling in the way Jongin arched up and into his touch.

_I’m the only one who can do this._

Wanting to try something new, Kyungsoo decided to bite down gently on Jongin’s neck, not enough to bruise but definitely enough to leave a mark. He liked the idea of leaving a mark—he just hoped Jongin liked the idea, too.

The result of his actions surprised him, however.

A startled cry tore through Jongin’s throat in response to the bite. His hips, which had been steadily pistoning up and down, stuttered to a halt, and then he was tilting his head back and gasping out Kyungsoo’s name as he came.

And came.

_And came._

When he was finally done, he slumped back against the headboard, breathing heavily. “Holy shit. Kyungsoo, what … what _was_ that?”

Kyungsoo grinned. “Apparently you like being bitten. How kinky.”

“You’re a dick sometimes. I hope you know that.” Jongin’s eyes flicked downward, then widened. “Hey, you’re still hard.” 

“Oh, yeah.” Kyungsoo had almost forgotten. He’d been a bit preoccupied with Jongin, after all.

“Let me take care of it.”

“You don’t have to—”

Jongin grinned, guiding him down to lay on his back. “I want to.”

Then his mouth was on Kyungsoo, and all Kyungsoo could think was _fuck fuck fuck_ as Jongin began to bob, hollowing out his cheeks while he pressed his tongue down in all the right places. It was unlike anything Kyungsoo had felt before. 

He came a lot sooner than he’d meant to. 

Jongin crawled up to hover over him, grinning in that cheeky way of his. “Was that your first blowjob?”

“… Maybe.”

“Then it was my honor.”

Kyungsoo slapped him lightly on the shoulder in an attempt to appear affronted,  but then Jongin was pulling him into his chest, and Kyungsoo couldn’t possibly resist him. Jongin smiled in response as he laid down, snuggling in close. His heart was beating out a steady rhythm beneath his skin; Kyungsoo could hear it from where he had his head pressed up against the younger’s chest.

“I want to fall asleep like this forever,” he murmured, his voice heavy as his eyelids fluttered shut.

Jongin’s response was a soft sigh. “Me too.”

Kyungsoo wanted to say more. He wanted to say _I think I love you_ and watch the way the words sparked through Jongin’s eyes like fire, but it was too late. The fatigue had taken hold, and Kyungsoo slipped into his dreams before he could even think to try and escape them.

 

 

When it came to dreaming, Kyungsoo hated the happy ones. 

Happy dreams were just lies. No matter what, he would always inevitably wake up and find himself in his tiny apartment, devoid of a family or purpose outside of work and a few close friends. And then, thanks to that happy dream, he had to spend the rest of the day telling himself that he was okay. 

He wasn’t lonely.

But on the mornings that he woke from those happy dreams, he felt the loneliness acutely in his chest and figured it would be better for all of them if he just didn’t dream at all.

So when he woke up the next morning, a pleasant thrumming in his veins and the warmth of another person in bed beside him, he almost thought he was dreaming. Pain shot through his chest at that; he didn’t think he could handle it if Jongin had just been a dream. He wouldn’t be able to go back to his life if it had.

_Can one really dream an entire lifetime?_

Reality returned in a rush as Kyungsoo finally woke up completely, his eyes landing on Jongin—Jongin, who was sound asleep; Jongin, whose eyelids fluttered gently sometimes as he dreamed; Jongin, whose fingers had been intertwined with Kyungsoo’s all night.

An emotion that felt like love rose up in Kyungsoo’s chest.

_This is real. This isn’t a dream._

It was that knowledge that kept him happy throughout the rest of the day. He and Jongin both had to rush to work so they didn’t have time for an actual breakfast—“Cereal it is, then,” Jongin said with a grin, pouring both him and Kyungsoo a bowl—but it was okay because Kyungsoo promised he’d make that amazing breakfast for him Saturday, and Jongin promised to hold him to that vow.

So Kyungsoo walked into work with a skip in his step and a smile on his face, even despite the knowledge of all the payments he had to make on his car looming over him. He wasn’t going to let something that could easily be taken care of darken his day.

Jongdae and Joonmyun gave each other knowing looks at Kyungsoo’s consistent good mood, but neither of them said anything. They were both just glad Kyungsoo was happy again.

Kyungsoo was glad he was happy again.

“Are you in love?”

The tray Kyungsoo had been cleaning nearly slipped out of his hands, but he quickly caught it, turning to fix Joonmyun with a pointed look. “What?”

“Are you in love?”

“… No.”

“Liar.” Joonmyun smiled. “I’m not blind, Kyungsoo. I told you that before. I can see it written clearly all over your face.”

Kyungsoo vividly remembered the night before, of Jongin’s dark eyes and sweet promises, of the words that had gone through Kyungsoo’s mind just before he’d drifted off. _I think I love you._ But he wasn’t going to tell Joonmyun that. He wasn’t going to affirm something he wasn’t even sure of yet.

“Honestly,” he said, his voice soft, “I don’t know if I am or not.”

“What do you mean?”

“I always thought that love meant looking at someone, seeing all their flaws, and loving them anyway. But I realize now that was naïve. Love isn’t just accepting someone’s flaws. Love … love is seeing someone’s flaws, seeing your own flaws, accepting them, and then still wanting to spend the rest of your life with that person.” He glanced down at the tray he still held in his hands. “I don’t know if I’m ready to make that kind of commitment yet.”

Commitments, after all, had never gone well for him.

Joonmyun’s eyes were wide. “Kyungsoo …”

“It’s barely been four months anyway. I think … I think I might need a little more time than that.”

“Do you think Jongin does?”

Kyungsoo remembered the look in Jongin’s eyes as he talked about his past—the pain, the hurt, the betrayal—and nodded. The both of them were far too broken to be so easily put back together.

Joonmyun chuckled, shaking his head. “Since when did you get so wise?”

“Are you insinuating that I was naïve before?”

“Hey. You said that yourself.”

Kyungsoo was about to follow up with another retort, only to be interrupted by his phone ringing. Joonmyun gave him an incredulous look.

“People don’t usually call you during work.”

Kyungsoo shrugged, fishing his phone out of his pocket. The number on the caller ID made him freeze. “It’s the car repair shop,” he said, moving quickly to answer. “Hello?”

“ _Do Kyungsoo?_ ”

“Yes?”

“ _I am calling to confirm the fulfillment of your billing costs and also to personally thank you on behalf of Kim’s Repair Shop. We’ve never received a payment so promptly before_.”

Kyungsoo’s heart skipped in his chest. “But … sir, I didn’t make a payment. I was going to continue the four month plan like we’d originally discussed.”

“ _Well, I don’t know what to tell you. All the repair costs have been paid in full, plus interest. Perhaps you have a guardian angel_.”

A guardian angel. Kyungsoo’s eyes widened. “Wait, can you tell me who made the payment?”

“ _Oh, yes. Let’s see_ …” there was a rustling noise, and then the man on the other end cleared his throat. “ _Ah, a man by the name of Kim Jongin sent the money in last night via an electronic transaction from his bank account. Is this a problem?_ ”

Kyungsoo felt like he couldn’t breathe. There were tears in his eyes. “No,” he said softly, “No, it’s not. Thank you very much.”

“ _You are very welcome, Do Kyungsoo. Thank you for doing business with us_.”

He hung up.

“Kyungsoo?” That was Joonmyun, hovering at his side. “Are you—are you crying?”

Yes. He was. Kyungsoo could feel the tears dripping down his face, but he couldn’t bring himself to reach up and wipe them away. They were tears of happiness. Tears of gratitude.

_How can I ever repay him?_

“He paid for my repair costs,” Kyungsoo said, his voice a mere whisper.

“… What?”

“Jongin. He paid, in full, the costs I had left on my car’s repairs.”

Joonmyun’s eyes widened. “He has that kind of money?”

“Yes, but I … I never imagined. I mean—he didn’t have to do that.”

“Maybe you were wrong, then,” Joonmyun said. “Maybe he doesn’t need more than four months.”

But Kyungsoo wasn’t listening anymore. “I’m taking my lunch break now,” he said, pulling off his apron. It was kind of early, but the café wasn’t busy anyway and he had somewhere he needed to be. “I’ll be back in an hour.”

He was gone before Joonmyun could protest, grabbing his coat and scarf as he headed out the door. Jongin had said he worked at a music store down the street, so Kyungsoo went that way, hoping there weren’t too many music stores along that block. He’d never really paid attention.

In the end, there were only two. Kyungsoo decided to just try both and went into the one called _Musically Yours_ first. There was a really tall, lanky man at the front desk. He had curly blond hair and flashed a too-wide smile at Kyungsoo as he entered.

“Can I help you?”

Kyungsoo paused. “I’m, uh, looking for someone, actually. Kim Jongin. Does he work here?”

The blond nodded. “Yep! Oh, hey, you’re Kyungsoo, aren’t you?”

“… Yeah. How do you know my name?”

“Jongin talks about you a lot. He’s in the back, by the way. Just go right through that door.” He pointed toward an opening behind the desk, one covered with a curtain of beads.

“Thanks,” Kyungsoo said with a grateful smile, slipping past the tall blond and into the back. 

The room beyond the curtain of beads was a mess, to put it lightly. A multitude of records and CDs dominated its space—stacked in precarious positions, propped up against the walls, piled haphazardly on shelves, shoved in corners—but there seemed to be some sort of pattern to the mess, like a chaotic order.

And there, in the middle of the convoluted room, stood Jongin. He was organizing a stack of CDs. Or seemed to be, at least. Kyungsoo wanted to get his attention, but the look of concentration on Jongin’s face was so adorable that he hesitated a moment, giving himself a second to think of what he was going to say.

_Thank you just doesn’t seem like enough._

 “Jongin,” he said finally, and the younger man spun around in response, his eyes wide.

“Kyungsoo?” He smiled, discarding the stack of CDs in favor of his lover. “What are you doing here?”

There were tears in Kyungsoo’s eyes again. He couldn’t help it; he was just so overcome with emotion that he couldn’t hold it in.

Noticing the tears, Jongin paused. “Kyungsoo, what’s wrong? Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine.” Kyungsoo reached up to wipe the moisture off his face. “In fact, I couldn’t be better.” 

He strode forward before Jongin could react, tangling his fingers in the younger’s hair as he pulled Jongin in for a bruising kiss. Through it, Kyungsoo hoped to convey everything he was feeling: happiness, gratitude, _love_. Such things couldn’t have been properly expressed through words.

“Hey!”

The voice brought Kyungsoo back to reality and he broke the kiss to see the tall blond from before. He was standing in the doorway, frowning. The expression seemed exaggerated, though, as if he was trying his hardest not to smile.

“No making out in the back room.”

Jongin flushed. “Go away, Chanyeol.”

“Why don’t you get a room? It would be a lot easier—”

“ _Go away_.”

“Alright, alright.” Chanyeol backed out, his hands up. “Whatever. Make out all you want. Just try to keep the sex noises to a minimum, kay? I am trying to run a shop here.”

Kyungsoo was the one blushing now. “Who’s that?”

“My boss.”

“He seems interesting.”

“Yeah, but let’s not talk about him right now.” Jongin held him close, his hands rubbing soothing circles on Kyungsoo’s back. “Let’s talk about that kiss. And those tears. Did something happen?”

“I got a call from the repair shop today.”

“Oh?”  Jongin’s eyes widened. “ _Oh._ ”

“Yeah. You didn’t have to do that.”

“I wanted to. And like I said, it’s no big deal; I have the money.”

“That’s not the point. You still didn’t have to.”

“I _wanted_ to.”

Kyungsoo kissed him again, short and quick. “I don’t think I can ever thank you enough.”

“Well, since you’re already here …” Jongin glanced at his watch, “I mean, it’s early, yeah, but we could just go to lunch and that could serve as your thanks. How’s that sound?”

“That sounds great.”

 

 

Kyungsoo ended up at Jongin’s apartment again that night. He hadn’t slept at his own in almost a month now, but he didn’t mind. Neither did Jongin. They wanted to be together, to wake up in each other’s arms, and Kyungsoo much preferred Jongin’s clean, open apartment to his own tiny one.

But that night, as they snuggled up next to each other under the sheets, Jongin asked him a question he wasn’t prepared to answer.

“Do you want to move in with me?”

Kyungsoo tensed, his eyes widening in shock. “What?”

“Well, I mean, you don’t have to if you don’t want to. But you’ve basically been living here anyway, so it’d make sense.”

“I—I don’t know …” Kyungsoo bit down hard on his lip. “What if … what if something happens?”

“Something?”

“What if we fight?”

“Everyone fights, Kyungsoo.”

“I know, but …”

“Look, if you don’t want to right now, I understand. I’m not going to force you into anything.”

“I don’t … Jongin, I’m sorry, I don’t think I can answer right now. I’ll think about it. Okay?”

“Okay.”

And Kyungsoo did. He thought about it a lot, to the point that he couldn’t get his mind off it the next day as he went into work. It seemed to stand above all else, distracting him and causing him to fumble responsibilities he normally wouldn’t. 

Joonmyun noticed after the disaster that had been the lunch rush—during which Kyungsoo dropped three trays of food, messed up a few orders, and even forgot customers that he had seated himself—and decided to confront him about it.

“Did something happen?” Joonmyun asked, pulling Kyungsoo into the kitchen. “You were so happy yesterday, but now you kind of look like a kicked puppy. Did you and Jongin fight?”

Kyungsoo looked away. “No. Nothing like that.”

“Then what’s wrong?”

“Jongin … asked me to move in with him.”

Joonmyun’s eyes widened.

“It’s a really big commitment,” Kyungsoo continued, not waiting for Joonmyun to reply, “And he told me that I didn’t have to agree to it now if I’m not ready, and I know I probably shouldn’t because so much could go wrong, but so much could go right, too, and I’m really afraid but I really want to say yes—dear god, Joonmyun, I want to say _yes_ —but I don’t know if I can. I don’t know if I’m ready.” He took a deep breath, his eyes on the floor. “I don’t know if _we_ are ready.”

Joonmyun stared at him a moment. “Whoa.”

“Yeah.”

“It seems like you’ve thought this through.”

“Yeah, I have. And I’m … I’m sorry about how awful my performance has been today. I know I’m usually not this spacey at work—”

“Kyungsoo,” Joonmyun said, cutting him off, “You’re one of the best employees here. I know that. You know that. Everyone knows that. It’s okay to have an off day, just don’t make a habit out of it, alright?”

Kyungsoo nodded. “Alright.”

“And Kyungsoo?”

“Yeah?”

“Let me give you some advice: don’t hold back from doing what you want, not when life is as short as it is. And if things go wrong, well … you can cross that bridge when you come to it.”

Kyungsoo managed a small smile. “Since when did you get so wise?”

“Hey, I’ve always been like this.”

“Yeah. Uh-huh.”

Kyungsoo finished the rest of the work day in silence. The café’s activity usually died down after the lunch rush, especially on a Monday, so he ended up getting off earlier than he’d expected. 

 _Now that I don’t have any repair bills left to pay,_ he thought as he walked down the darkening street, _I don’t have to work extra shifts._

And it was all because of Jongin.

Kyungsoo paused on the sidewalk, glancing down at the concrete. Overhead, those same yellowed street lights flickered and buzzed, filling the silence with the hum of electricity. A little ways down the street was the bus stop, sitting there calmly as if waiting for him to approach, and all those memories he and Jongin had made there came back to him in a rush.

It hit him then that he never would’ve met Jongin if he hadn’t been in that car accident.

_All things considered, maybe I should find the guy who hit me and thank him._

So much in his life had changed. The happy dream that he’d always hated waking up from had become a reality, and now Kyungsoo had a chance at love. Not the kind of cheesy, romantic love plastered across TV and movie screens, but _real_ love—love that saw all flaws and loved anyway, love that wanted to always be together, love that saw an opportunity for a better, fuller life.

Love that could last a lifetime.

Kyungsoo pulled out his phone and dialed Jongin’s number, chewing on his lip as he waited for the younger man to answer. 

“ _Hey, Kyungsoo!_ ” Jongin exclaimed the moment he picked up. “ _Are you coming over tonight?_ ”

“Oh, yeah.”

“ _Awesome. I have a great movie that I think you’ll love_.”

“Jongin, I … I’ve been thinking about what you asked me last night, and I have my answer.”

For a moment, Jongin didn’t reply. Then finally: “ _And?_ ”

“And I’m going to need your help moving in tomorrow.”

“ _Really?_ ”

“Really.”

“ _That’s—that’s amazing. Oh, Soo, you just made my night! My week! My entire life!_ ”

Kyungsoo laughed softly. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. Wait … _Soo?_ ”

“ _Oh, yeah, sorry. Do you not like for people to call you that?_ ”

“No one’s ever called me that before.”

“ _Good. Then it’ll be my nickname for you. No one else can use it. Oh, by the way, do you want me to pick you up? It’s supposed to snow soon and I don’t want you to get caught in it_.”

Kyungsoo glanced at the bus stop down the street. “It’s not too much trouble?”

“ _Not when it’s you_.”

“… Okay. I’ll see you in a few, then.”

“ _Yep. Count the minutes; I’ll be there in five_.”

With a smile, Kyungsoo pressed the end call button and slipped his phone back into his pocket. 

The bus stop could wait.

 

 

The end of Kyungsoo’s contract was coming up soon anyway, so the termination of his lease had been rather easy. After that, it had taken a little over a day to get all of Kyungsoo’s things situated. 

There wasn’t that much, of course, but packing everything up, transporting it to Jongin’s apartment, and then unpacking it and putting it all away again had taken a bit of time. Now, however, everything was in its place: Kyungsoo’s clothes were next to Jongin’s in a large, walk-in closet, his toothbrush and other toiletries were nestled safely in the bathroom, and what few books and trinkets he owned had found their places around the apartment on shelves and side tables. 

All in all, Kyungsoo had imagined it would feel smaller with two people, but the place was so big that his tiny addition hadn’t amounted to much. There was a definite change it its atmosphere, however, because now it felt lived in. It felt loved.

It felt like home.

And Kyungsoo didn’t regret his decision one bit.

He’d brought all his cookbooks and utensils along with him, adding them to Jongin’s collection of high-tech kitchen appliances that he never used, and now he cooked all the time, making them unnecessarily ostentatious dinners and breakfasts and midnight snacks. He enjoyed it so much, there in that kitchen where he had room to move and breathe, where Jongin was always there, right beside him.

“Do you want to quit your job?”

Kyungsoo started a bit and looked up. He was sitting on Jongin’s couch— _their_ couch; he still had to get used to referring to everything as _theirs_ —with a book perched in his lap and a cup of coffee on the table beside him. Jongin had gotten back from work a little late that night and had been busying himself by grabbing a snack from the kitchen, but now he was standing in front of Kyungsoo, nibbling on an apple and smiling.

“Quit?” Kyungsoo echoed. “Why?”

“Well, now that you don’t have to pay rent on your apartment or pay for repairs on your car, you don’t really have to worry about expenses. I have more than enough to pay for our food and anything else.”

Kyungsoo shrugged. “I like it. I like the people at the café, and working gives me something to do. I think I’d get bored just sitting around here. Besides, I could ask you the same thing.”

“What?”

“Why don’t you quit _your_ job? You said you have enough money.”

Jongin paused, thinking. “Oh. Well … yeah, I guess it’d get boring.”

“Exactly.”

“I think I’d miss Chanyeol, too. He’s very entertaining.”

“He does seem to be pretty interesting,” Kyungsoo mused. “I’d like to get to know him better.”

“I don’t think you could handle him.”

“Um, if I can handle Jongdae, I’m pretty sure I can handle anyone.”

“Point taken.”

“I guess that’s that, then. We keep our jobs.”

“I guess so.” Jongin straightened, groaning a bit as he stretched. The hem of his shirt rode up when he did, and Kyungsoo couldn’t help but stare at the flash of skin that peeked out from under it.

“Impressed?” Jongin quipped.

“Shut up.”

“You’re impressed by my sexy body.”

“Oh my God, Jongin, _shut up_.”

Jongin laughed. “Oh, hey, you know what today’s date is, right?”

“Um … the fifteenth?”

“Ten days before Christmas!”

Kyungsoo’s eyes widened. _Christmas._ “Oh. Oh! I have to go shopping!”

“For?”

“You, stupid.”

Jongin blinked at him. “You don’t have to get me anything.”

“Well, you don’t have to get me anything, either, but I know you will anyway, so this conversation is pointless.”

“True.” Jongin grinned. “You’re sexy when you’re stubborn.”

“Shut up.”

“I have half a mind to just bend you over this couch right now.”

Kyungsoo stood, discarding his book, and pulled Jongin closer by his collar. “Only half a mind?”

Jongin’s look of shock shifted back into that trademark cocky grin of his in an instant. “Well, okay … it’s definitely more than that,” he murmured, slipping his hands under Kyungsoo’s shirt and guiding him back down onto the couch. “Only if you’re ready, of course.”

“Mmm, when it comes to you— _always_.”

 

 

“So, how are things?” Jongdae asked, absently cleaning the screen of his phone. He was leaning back against the counter, once again attempting to distract Kyungsoo from his work. Kyungsoo figured he should’ve been used to this by now.

“Jongdae, you really need to stop living vicariously through other people,” Joonmyun said in passing. Jongdae flipped him off when his back was turned. 

“I’m not telling you anything,” Kyungsoo said, “Especially not after last time.”

“Last time?”

“You wanted to have sex with my boyfriend.”

“Oh, well, that’s still a thing. I mean, have you seen him? That man is sexy as hell.”

“Yes, I have seen him.” Kyungsoo turned, putting his face right up to Jongdae’s, “I’ve seen _every part of him_.”

“Okay, that might be a little too much information.”

“You asked.”

“Fuck you.”

Joonmyun came back at that moment, sighing a bit as he ran his fingers through his hair. He looked tired, but he smiled when he saw Kyungsoo. “Hey, how’re things?”

“Good. Really good, actually.”

“I hear you took my advice about saying yes to Jongin.”

Kyungsoo smiled and Jongdae glanced between the two of them.

“What?”

“Kyungsoo moved into Jongin’s apartment,” Joonmyun said.

“ _Joonmyun_ ,” Kyungsoo hissed.

“What. It’s not like it’s a big ordeal. Jongdae would’ve found out sooner or later.”

“Yeah, but—”

“Oh, you’re under the same roof now?” Jongdae grinned. “How scandalous, Kyungsoo!”

“Shut the fuck up,” Kyungsoo said, turning to glare at Joonmyun. “See, _this_ is what I was afraid of.”

“Did you guys have sex in his bed yet?” Jongdae continued, ignoring Kyungsoo’s order.

“ _Jongdae!_ ”

“It’s a very simple question. Oh, well, I guess you’d call it _your_ bed now that you’re living with him.”

Kyungsoo gave him a look. “I swear to God, Jongdae, say one more thing—”

“How opposed would you be to making a sex tape?”

“Okay, that’s it.” Kyungsoo grabbed the first thing he could find—a box cutter—and strode toward Jongdae. “I’m going to chop your dick off and feed it to the birds out front.”

Joonmyun’s eyes widened. “Whoa.”

“Okay, okay.” Jongdae backed away, his hands up, “I was only teasing, Kyungsoo.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I wasn’t _actually_ going to ask for a video of you and Jongin having sex. I mean, that’d be nice, but I’m not awful enough to go that far.”

“Are you trying to make me believe you have moral standards? Because I don’t buy it.”

“Wait!” Jongdae pleaded. “I need my dick!”

“Uh …”

All three of them turned to see Jongin standing on the other side of the counter, a look of uncertainty on his face. 

“I feel like I’ve walked in on the middle of something again,” he said slowly.

Joonmyun sighed. “You pick the worst days to drop by.”

“I’ve noticed.”

Kyungsoo lowered the box cutter he’d been brandishing. “Hey, Jongin. Is it … lunchtime already?”

“Yep.”

“Oh.” Kyungsoo slipped out from behind the counter, ditching his apron. “I’m taking my lunch break, Joonmyun. Jongdae can keep his dick for now.”

“Do I even want to ask?” Jongin wondered as they walked away.

“Probably not.”

“Hey, wait!” Jongdae called, stopping them, “Setting all our past differences aside, do you guys want to come to my New Year’s party?”

Kyungsoo paused and glanced at Jongin, who nodded. “Uh … sure. I guess. Where will it be?”

“Well … I don’t exactly have a place yet. I can’t find anywhere big enough that isn’t already rented out.”

“Big enough? How many people are you planning on inviting?”

“Oh, just a few here and there.” Jongdae shrugged. “Point is, there won’t be a party unless I can find a place. Do either of you have any ideas?”

“My apartment could work,” Jongin said, only to glance at Kyungsoo and quickly correct himself, “ _Our_ apartment.”

Jongdae’s eyes lit up. “Really?”

Kyungsoo tugged on Jongin’s sleeve. “We don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“I don’t mind. But it’s your decision also, seeing as we live there together.”

“I’m fine with it.”

“Then that’s settled.” Jongin offered Jongdae a smile. “Our apartment it is.”

“Awesome! Thanks, you guys. I’ll make sure to let everyone know and get the times worked out.”

Kyungsoo left with Jongin after that, grabbing his coat, scarf, and hat as they went out the front door, and Joonmyun promptly smacked Jongdae upside the head.

“Ow!” Jongdae protested, “What was that for?”

Joonmyun fixed him with a glare. “Mind your own fucking business, Jongdae.”

 

 

The next few days passed by in a blur.

Kyungsoo freaked out a little trying to find a present for Jongin, and in the end he settled for a necklace. It wasn’t much, just a simple ring on a chain of silver, but he’d had it engraved with the date they’d first met so it would mean something.

Still, Kyungsoo felt a little silly as he wrapped it and put it under the tree. It was so tiny, so insignificant next to what Jongin could afford, but all Kyungsoo wanted was for it to show Jongin how much he loved him.

They were both broken, their hearts shattered to the point that they were irreparable. Kyungsoo had decided, however, that maybe they didn’t need to be repaired. Maybe they didn’t need to pick up the pieces of their old lives and try to glue them back together. Maybe all they needed was to start anew, to discard their pasts and move on to new futures.

So that was the hope he wrapped in the tiny box signed _To Jongin_ : the hope of a new life, of a new start, of a new love. And when he woke up Christmas morning to Jongin leaning over to kiss him awake, he knew that he could never have wished for anything better.

“Merry Christmas, Kyungsoo,” Jongin murmured.

Kyungsoo smiled. “Merry Christmas.”

“There are presents under the tree.”

“Hmmm.” Kyungsoo snuggled up to Jongin, sighing softly. “Can we stay in bed a little longer?”

“That depends on what you want to do while you’re in bed.”

Kyungsoo laughed. “You’re such an idiot.”

About forty minutes later, the two stumbled out of the bedroom, a bit rumpled looking but no worse for wear. Kyungsoo had a stupid grin on his face. Jongin’s eyes were alive with life. And both of them decided they wanted nothing else.

“That was a pretty great present,” Jongin admitted as he got them both coffee.

Kyungsoo blushed. “There are a few more, remember?”

“Oh, yeah. Do you want to open them now?”

“Sure.”

So Kyungsoo sat next to Jongin on the couch, his hands clapsed tightly in his lap while he watched his lover open the present he’d wrapped so carefully. As Jongin did, Kyungsoo thought back to the first night they’d met so many months ago, to the cold and the frustration he’d felt and the jacket Jongin had wrapped around his shoulders.

_Where would I be now if I hadn’t met him?_

“Oh,” Jongin gasped. He was staring at the necklace, and for a moment Kyungsoo feared he didn’t like it. Then Jongin looked up at him, his eyes full of tears, and Kyungsoo knew that it was exactly the opposite.

“Do you like it?” he asked anyway.

Jongin nodded, his fingers running over the engraving on the ring. “This … this is the date we first met, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s … beautiful.” Jongin moved to kiss him, soft and loving. “Help me put it on?”

“Of course.”

The chain was a perfect fit, draping itself over Jongin’s collarbones so the ring settled right between them, over his chest. Kyungsoo smiled at it.

“Now it’s your turn,” Jongin said, wiping away a few stray tears with his thumb. “I’m sure you’ll find mine is just as gushy and romantic.”

“Oh?” Kyungsoo took the present from him, staring at it a moment. It was a bit bigger than the box he’d given Jongin and he opened it slowly, unsure of what to expect, of what Jongin possibly could have gotten him. Jongin had given him so much already. There was nothing else he wanted.

Plane tickets. Inside the present Jongin had given him, there were two plane tickets.

Confused, Kyungsoo looked up at Jongin. “What’s this?”

Jongin smiled. “I promised you that I’d take you to see the mountains some day, didn’t I? This is me keeping that promise.”

Kyungsoo’s eyes widened. The flight date on the tickets was just a few weeks after New Year’s, but it was the destination that caught his eye. “America? We’re going to America?”

“Yeah. I spent a few months there during my modeling career. Up in the northern part of the country, the mountains are amazing. I rented out a mountain cabin in New York that’s not too far from the city, so you can still visit your concrete jungle.”

Kyungsoo didn’t know what to say. He’d told himself that he wouldn’t cry over Jongin’s present, but now he knew he couldn’t hold back. “Thank you,” he managed after a few moments, emotion hitching in his chest. “Thank you, Jongin.”

“You’re welcome.”

Kyungsoo set the tickets down on the coffee table, scooting forward and leaning into Jongin’s side. Jongin’s arm settled around his shoulders in response. 

“I love you,” Kyungsoo whispered.

Jongin seemed to relax underneath him. “I love you, too.”

And Kyungsoo banished all thoughts of previous Christmases, focusing instead on the necklace Jongin wore, the love they’d professed to each other, and the two plane tickets sitting on the coffee table. 

No longer did they deal in broken hearts.

Jongin hadn’t wanted Kyungsoo to have to cook a big dinner for them on Christmas day—even though Kyungsoo insisted that it was fine and he enjoyed it—so they went out to a nice restaurant instead. 

One where they already had reservations.

“I planned ahead,” Jongin admitted as the waiter seated them.

Kyungsoo rolled his eyes, trying to conceal the smile tugging at his lips. Jongin saw it anyway.

“I just realized,” Kyungsoo said as they sat down and were given their menus, “We’ve never gone on a date like this before.”

“We’ve eaten out together.”

“No, I meant at a fancy restaurant. Usually we just go to a little café for lunch since we’re so pressed for time.”

“Yes, well … I wanted today to be special.”

Kyungsoo smiled. “It has been. In fact, I don’t think I could ever thank you enough. You’ve … done so much for me. I don’t know where I’d be without you, honestly.”

“Me neither,” Jongin admitted. “I mean, before I met you, Kyungsoo, I was one step away from tumbling into depression. It … wasn’t pretty.”

Kyungsoo thought back on his life before, remembering long nights working overtime at the café, nightmares of his past, sobbing sessions in the bathroom during breaks, and nodded. “I was right there with you.”

Jongin glanced down at his menu, frowning. “Do you believe in God?”

“I … I don’t know,” Kyungsoo said slowly, taken aback by the abruptness of the question. “I mean, I know I’ve always believed in _something_. But whether it’s God or fate or some other similar force, I’m not sure.”

“I never much believed in anything like that, but _this_ —” Jongin gestured between them, “I don’t feel like it was coincidence.”

“I don’t think so, either.” Kyungsoo laughed then, shaking his head. “We’re both such hopeless romantics.”

“Oh, definitely.”

After they’d eaten, they walked down the street, talking and laughing and existing together. It was starting to snow. Jongin looked like an angel illuminated in the streetlights, his wings hidden in shadow but no less noticeable. 

Kyungsoo couldn’t look away.

“I’m about to freeze to death,” he reminded Jongin, his teeth chattering. He had his gloves and scarf and coat, but still the cold seemed to cut through him like a knife, rendering his extra layers pointless.

“I know, I know,” Jongin said with a smile, “Just hold on.”

“Why did we walk here anyway? You have a car.”

“It’s a surprise.”

“Another? Jongin, I don’t need any more presents.”

“Shh. This is for both of us.”

“Both of us?” Kyungsoo echoed, only to pause when he saw where they were.

The bus stop.

Jongin smiled, but the expression looked unsure. “I thought, since this was where we first met and it means so much to us and all, we should get a chance to ride it before we leave for America. And I know we still have two weeks left before the trip, but … today is special. We should end it the way we began our relationship, don’t you think?”

Kyungsoo nodded, joy rising up in his chest. “I think that’s a wonderful idea.”

Thankfully, they only had to wait for a few minutes before the bus came rumbling up to the stop, devoid of any passengers whatsoever. Kyungsoo thought that was quite perfect. So he and Jongin paid the price and got on the bus, taking the seats near the back that they’d sat in so many times.

“I wonder if this is the same exact bus,” Jongin mused.

“I don’t think this route only has one.”

“Well, it wouldn’t surprise me. We don’t exactly live in a huge city.”

“True. But remember, one of their buses broke down before, the first time  we met. That’s why you had to give me a ride. They must have extras on hand in case that happens.”

“We could always ask the driver.”

Kyungsoo thought about that for a second. “Or we could just make out.”

Jongin laughed. “I’m not sure the driver would appreciate that.”

“I seem to recall us talking about our favorite sex positions while riding the bus at one point. Why the reservations now?”

“Well, I was trying to be charming and win you over then.”

“It worked. Obviously,” Kyungsoo conceded.

“Yes, so now I don’t _have_ to be charming and win you over, because I already did.”

“You’re always charming.”

Jongin grinned. “Making out is a lot different from talking about sex positions in lowered voices in the back of the bus. I doubt the driver even heard us. But it’d be very easy for him to see us making out.”

“I’m sure teenagers do it all the time.”

Jongin looked like he was about to retort, only to pause. “Okay, I think you win.”

“So we can make out now?”

“Why not.”

Jongin’s hand was on Kyungsoo’s thigh when the bus stopped and they quickly pulled away from each other, their faces red, their breath quick. With a word of thanks to the driver, the two stumbled off, laughing as they headed towards their apartment.

“He looked embarrassed,” Kyungsoo said breathlessly. “The driver, I mean.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure he saw us.”

“You think?”

 

 

Kyungsoo fell asleep that night without any reservations, content in the knowledge that he could never dream up a life happier than the one he was living.

 

 

“Okay, so, there are quite a few more people coming than I originally thought,” Jongdae said, glancing around Kyungsoo and Jongin’s apartment. It was New Year’s Eve, just a few hours before the party, and Jongdae had dropped by their apartment early to help them set things up.

“Wait, what?” Jongin turned to face Jongdae, his brow furrowed. “Does that mean there won’t be enough space?”

“No, no,” Jongdae denied. “It just means _there are quite a few more people coming than I originally thought._ You know how it is: I invited people and said they could invite a few people if they wanted, and if everyone I invited also invited others, then … well, the number doubled. But there should still be room.”

“Okay …” Jongin sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. “Can you give us an estimate?”

“Umm, twenty five people maybe?”

“That’s a little more than double, Jongdae,” Kyungsoo said. “You estimated ten people besides us, you, and Joonmyun a few days ago.”

“Okay, yeah. But that’s still not too much … is it?”

“Honestly, it’s too late to do anything about it now,” Jongin said. “But you might want to make that estimate twenty six. I invited someone too.”

“Who?” Kyungsoo asked.

“Chanyeol. My boss. Remember him?”

“Oh, yeah.” Kyungsoo didn’t know how he could ever forget.

“We should probably start getting everything set up, then.” Jongin said. “Kyungsoo, you made a few dishes overnight, but is there anything else you need to cook?”

“Those were just appetizers. I was going to make a few desserts too.”

“Okay. You start on those. Jongdae and I will finish cleaning and get the decorations set up.”

Kyungsoo didn’t mind that. When it came to duties around the house, he’d always preferred cooking to the cleaning anyway.

For the next few hours, all three of them busied themselves with getting ready for the party. Joonmyun showed about an hour early to see if they needed any extra help and ended up assisting Kyungsoo in the kitchen, cutting butter toffee and finishing off the homemade brownies with a sprinkling of powdered sugar. 

When they’d all finished, they had fifteen minutes left until people were actually supposed to start arriving, the apartment smelled amazing and looked amazing, and Kyungsoo smiled. He was looking forward to this party a lot more than he’d let on.

“I have champagne,” Joonmyun said, pointing to a bottle he’d brought in with him. “I’m hoping others will bring more, though, since I only have one.”

“If they don’t, I brought some too,” Jongdae admitted. “I put it in the fridge.”

“Oh. I’ll put mine in there with yours then.”

Jongdae gave Joonmyun an odd look when he turned around, one that was different from the usual, exasperated expression he had on whenever Joonmyun was near him. Kyungsoo caught it and moved closer to Jongin.

“Did you see that?” he whispered.

“Yeah. Did something happen between them?”

Kyungsoo bit his lip to suppress his smile. “I don’t know, but I think Jongdae has a crush.”

“Aww, how cute.”

“Let’s not tease him. He’s probably really confused about it considering his normal, frivolous tendencies.”

“I agree.”

When the guests finally started arriving, Jongdae reverted back to his normal self in an instant, smiling and laughing and making stupid, inappropriate jokes. All the guests seemed rather used to his antics, however, which made Kyungsoo’s life a whole lot easier. He’d been afraid of having to go around apologizing for Jongdae. But apparently they all either knew him or had been informed of his eccentric personality.

Chanyeol, on the other hand, seemed to be an exceptional people person. He flitted from group to group throughout the duration of the night, telling stories and making friends and filling the room with his laughter.

“He’s quite a spectacle,” Kyungsoo surmised, watching the way Chanyeol joined the middle of yet another group’s conversation without breaking a sweat. 

“Yeah, he is,” Jongin agreed. He had a half-empty glass of champagne in his hand, but he set it down in favor of lacing his fingers through Kyungsoo’s. “Join me on the balcony?”

“Sure.”

Outside, the sky was studded with stars—blinking lights layered in a canopy of velvet black. Kyungsoo had always felt something deep in his chest when he looked up at the night sky, a kind of wistfulness, as if he wanted nothing more than to join those stars up above.

Now, however, he had something grounding him, tethering him to the earth. And he found that he didn’t mind giving up the stars if it meant he could be with Jongin.

“It’s almost midnight,” Jongin murmured, moving up so he was right next to Kyungsoo, their sides pressed together, their hands entertwined. They’d had the live New Year’s show playing on their TV all night, serving as background noise until the countdown began, and they could hear it even now from their positon on the balcony.

“Should we shut the door?” Jongin wondered.

“No. I want to listen.”

Just then, everyone inside began counting down from ten, their voices rising with each number, and Kyungsoo tightened his hold on Jongin’s hand. There was no one else he wanted to be with at the start of the New Year, no one but Jongin. All their friends faded into the background as Jongin leaned over to kiss him, his lips soft and warm, and Kyungsoo smiled.

“Three … two … one! Happy New Year!”

Someone a few blocks away set off fireworks. Everyone inside was cheering and whooping, pouring each other glasses of champagne and talking about their New Year’s Resolutions. But outside, Jongin and Kyungsoo were alone in the universe.

“Happy New Year, Kyungsoo,” Jongin whispered, his lips brushing against Kyungsoo’s.

Kyungsoo smiled. “And to many more years to come.”

**Author's Note:**

> Another re-purposed fic from AFF. Enjoy!


End file.
